Finding Home
by sonny's girlfriend
Summary: Bernard finds himself sharing a home with someone for the first time in his adult life, and the entire town believes he's happily in love with her, to boot! Well. To be fair, they did just get married, technically speaking! When did his private life get so complicated, again? Note: This is a sequel directly following "The Day Bernard Got Beaned." Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This is a sequel to "The Day Bernard Got Beaned". Goofy title, I know. But then, this is "The Santa Clause" fanfiction! :D**

**This one's a tad more serious.**

* * *

**Prelude: Home Coming**

* * *

Bernard thought he handled it well, all things considered. The cheers, presents, congratulations. The hip-hip hurrahs led by Curtis, an elf with a questionable sense of humor. It was a _huge_ welcome, one that only Santa's elves could pull together in the space of a few hours. There was even a wedding cake.

_That's_ right. This was a _wedding_ celebration. He was a married _elf_ now. And as far as almost everyone at the North Pole was concerned, this was the real deal. That wasn't to say the wedding itself wasn't official - because it _was -_ but the fact was that he and Helen weren't actually a couple.

Helen herself had been met with something between the cheerful open hearted welcome elves excelled at...along with a tinge of surprise and awe. Bernard knew why. _This_ was the woman who had presumably wooed their Head Elf. Mr. 'those t's had _better_ be crossed!' Mr. 'what-is-a-social-life-get-back-to-work!' His getting married was some kind of major, miraculous event- if the looks on some of their faces were anything to go by, anyway.

And they _were _something to go by. If Bernard knew anything, he knew how to read his fellow elves.

Overall, the day was beautifully handled- and no thanks, for once, to himself. It was a very joyful celebration. The stressful part of the season was over, another Christmas was a success, and the energy in the welcome home party reflected that. Bernard was relieved to find out there hadn't been any major mishaps during his absence. And, to be honest, he was happy to have found a way for Helen to come back with him, to stay at Santa's Workshop.

The alternative had been to leave her alone again to deal with everything life had thrown at her...and Bernard wouldn't have felt like one of Santa's elves after doing something like that.

This was better. This was so, _so_ much better. It was... really, really..._nice_! Watching her smile and laugh, enjoy herself. It was really, really, _really_...

_Complicated_! His life was _already_ complicated! He was _busy_! _Beyond_ busy! He was already running behind! What the..._heck_ had he been thinking? He'd been tricked! He'd been drunk! Okay, so maybe not.

But it had _really_ happened, hadn't it? Bernard was a _married_ _elf_.

* * *

Author's Note: So. Wasn't planning to do a sequel, but never say never I guess! I find myself verging into Mary Sue territory (le gasp!). Feel free to call me out on it. :P And, hopefully, enjoy! Reviews are appreciated. :)


	2. Home Sweet North Pole

**Chapter One:**

**Home Sweet North Pole**

* * *

The crowd had mostly dispersed, and the lights outside had been dimmed. Helen, so new to the place, had curled her hand gently around Bernard's forearm, allowing him to lead as she walked beside him.

Bernard was taking her to his house, a private space which had been his own, alone, for...many, many years now. The homes of Santa's elves were built in a circle radiating out from the Workshop. Bernard's home was one of the closest in, only about a five minute walk away. This house, unlike any other house at the North Pole aside from Santa's, came with the job, so when Bernard had taken on the role of Head Elf, he'd taken on the house too.

They didn't talk much in the few minutes it took to get there, but did nod to a few people on the way, who in turn never failed to give them a "congratulations" and sometimes a hand shake, as well. Before long, Bernard was leading Helen up the front steps in the semi-darkness. He paused at the front door, taking a moment to note the bright red paint with an ornate knocker. There was no lock, of course. Doors at the North Pole mostly didn't need them.

"Well, here we are." Bernard opened the door wide, turned on the lights, then backed up to let Helen in, who entered slowly. He followed after, glancing around. Almost nothing was quite the same as he remembered. That was because houses built by elves changed along with the people living in them. As he had expected, the house already knew. Helen was here to stay, and it had adjusted to fit the both of them best.

Bernard caught himself fidgeting with the wedding band on his finger, as his eyes followed Helen, who was walking around the space. He stopped the nervous motion immediately.

Helen glanced back at him, hesitant, and he gestured her on. "Look around! Take your time."

Bernard looked around again as well, taking in the details. It wasn't a huge space, but was more than enough for two people to share. There was a front sitting area, a back sitting area, and between the two was a very open kitchen, with only furniture and differences in style and tone differentiating the three spaces, rather than walls. In the very back, stairs curled up and out of sight, leading to the bedrooms. Helen didn't venture up them. She seemed content to stay downstairs, looking around, and occasionally giving an admiring comment. Bernard remained toward the front of the house, arms crossed, happy to observe from there.

After a bit, Helen wandered back to him, smiling. "You have a beautiful house, Bernard." She crossed her arms, unconsciously mimicking him. "It's not very Christmasy, is it? I'm...kind of surprised." She wasn't disappointed, but simply stating a fact.

And it _was_ true. The walls were tones of light yellow and green, the ceiling white. Furniture, a few potted plants, and wall art served to accent the place with stronger colors in a way any home would any time of the year. There wasn't a focus on traditional Christmas colors, and although there were a few things scattered around- a small, simple wreath of holly and ivy on the front door, for example, or the obviously green and red Christmas themed slippers in the front hall- which were Bernard's- things weren't particularly festive.

Bernard explained. "I love Christmas. Of _course_." He snorted softly at that statement, and gave Helen a lopsided smile before continuing. "But sometimes, my mind needs to rest. That's what home is for."

Helen's smile grew thoughtful. "I guess I hadn't thought of it that way. Christmas really _is_ your job."

Bernard frowned at that idea. "It's _more_ than a job..." He dropped off, thinking.

Helen tried to help. "Or, more like a career...?"

"Yeah?" Bernard glanced at her briefly, then stared into space, eyes narrowed as he focused on that word. "No..."

_Humans_ had careers. Santa's elves had something _much_ more than that. Christmas was a way of life. And...his house wasn't very Christmasy because Bernard needed to remove himself from that environment occasionally, so his mind could let go...in order to better focus when at the Workshop. It _all_ came back around to making sure everything got done with as much love and care -and organization and efficiency- as he could bring to Santa's Workshop every year.

Helen was beginning to wonder if she'd said something wrong. She grinned apologetically.

"Never..._never_ mind. I'm just trying to put things in a _box_, which is kind of silly." She laughed at herself incredulously. "I mean, this is Santa's Workshop!"

Bernard grinned at that. "Oh, we put _lots_ of things in boxes..."

He snorted softly. "Hey, _don't_ worry. You got me thinking about it, that's all." He started toward the kitchen. "Want something to drink?"

Helen turned to keep facing him as he walked past her. "Um, I'd love a glass of water, actually..." She watched as Bernard moved around the kitchen, feeling nervous. She knew so little about how things worked here. Maybe _that_ was why she had jumped to try and categorize Bernard's job (or whatever it was) as Head Elf. She had no idea about _anything_, really. For instance, where she would ultimately live...or how things would work with their "marriage."

As Bernard filled up two glasses with water, he caught Helen fingering her own wedding band. It caused his heart rate to pick up just slightly, something Bernard knew was a sign of nervousness.

Well. She was bound to have questions. _Naturally_.

Helen had stopped the motion by the time Bernard walked over, with a glass in each hand. He passed one to her, and they both took a long drink.

"Wow, this tastes _really_ good." Helen stared up at him, then narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. "Is there anything, you know..._magic_ in the water?" She grinned.

Bernard found himself grinning back, and shook his head slightly. "No. Just water. Clean, fresh. Mother Earth approved."

Helen laughed a little at that, then looked down, into her glass. She wore a slightly bashful look. "Right. I never put a face to Mother Earth, until today..."

Bernard felt his heart rate pick up again, as his eyes went to Helen's wedding band again. It was pure gold, a metal which would never tarnish, never change. Something appropriate to symbolize the permanence of marriage.

Helen noticed him staring, and he quickly glanced away.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Helen pursed her lips and swallowed once, trying to voice the questions which had been forming in the back of her mind during the celebrations that day. "So...I was wondering, you know...it seemed like just about _everyone_..."

***knock, knock, knock***

They both jumped slightly at the knocking at the front door, and it took a moment for Bernard to recover. He walked over to answer it, feeling sheepish- and a little relieved.

Two elves stood there, with a sizable pile of luggage and several cardboard boxes sitting between them.

"Delivery!" They were both grinning from ear to ear, but Bernard could see the nervousness underneath. It wasn't every day someone knocked on the Head Elf's front door on what they presumed was his _wedding_ night, after all.

"Oh! My stuff!" Helen looked relieved to see that Santa had done as promised, and made sure her things would be delivered to the North Pole.

Bernard motioned briskly, beckoning the elves to follow, and Helen found herself backing up to make room for them as they came inside.

"All right, _this_ way you two. Make it quick." The two elves struggled to follow Bernard's pace to the back of the room. He pointed up the stairs. "Put everything at the top. That'll be good enough."

"Sure thing!" It took a few trips, but shortly the luggage had been transferred upstairs.

The elves lingered for just a moment at the front door once they were done, looking shy. Then the taller of the two tipped his hat at them both.

"Congratulations!" It was brief, but heartfelt. Directly following, both elves zipped out the door, not waiting for a response.

Bernard closed the door behind them, then turned around to face Helen, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "This _is_ technically our _wedding_ night."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the mood turned incredibly awkward.

Helen smiled hesitantly. "...I appreciate you letting me share your space..."

Bernard cut her off. "Oh, no problem! You're welcome to stay."

"Thanks." Helen's smile turned soft, as she thought of everything he had done for her over the last few days. "This...means the _world_ to me." She raised an eyebrow. "But I'm _guessing_...there's a time table? For me to, you know, get out of your hair..." She chuckled uncertainly.

Bernard shook his head a few times. "You don't." He glanced to his left, as if rethinking what he'd said. "I mean...you can stay permanently! You don't _need_ to move out."

"Oh..." Helen traced the edge of her glass with one finger, feeling suddenly very shy. "So, I guess...everybody seems convinced that we're really _married_." She grinned, trying to hide her uncertainty.

Bernard raised his eyebrows at that. "That's because we _are_. It's entirely legitimate." He grinned at her, but his face fell as he took in her uncertain stare. Bernard put his hands up, in a placating gesture. "I'm _not_ saying that, you know...I mean, we're just _friends_." He paused, and let his hands fall. "It's...a little complicated. Basically...as you noticed, everybody _thinks_ we're a couple." He rubbed the back of his head uncertainly for a moment. "Speaking of that, here's...here's the _deal_. I'd really appreciate if we keep it that way? For...morale? It...makes them happy." He glanced back at the front door, tilting his head sideways and widening his eyes briefly as a reminder of the two elves who just left.

Helen stood still for a moment, then nodded, not knowing what else to do.

Bernard stared at her uncertainly, his hand still resting on the back of his head, looking serious, despite the light hearted pose. "Promise?"

Helen hesitated, then nodded again, struck that he was asking her twice. She smiled gently to emphasize her answer. "_Sure_, Bernard. I promise. It'll be...easy."

"Perfect!" Bernard dropped his arm back to his side, and immediately started a brisk trek toward the stairs, sweeping by her. "Here, let's get your stuff to your room..."

Helen tensed up as he brushed by. It might've been her imagination, but Bernard seemed to be bristling with some form of nervous energy he hadn't had a moment back.

She followed behind silently. The conversation had unsettled her. It felt like Bernard had said something really important just now, and she had missed it.

Was it..._bad_ to tell the truth:? Namely, that Bernard was just helping her out, by giving her a means to stay at the North Pole? Despite the reassuring smile she'd just given him, pretending to be a couple did _not_ sound easy at all! And what did that entail, exactly? Even at their wedding, they hadn't properly kissed.

Helen was _not_ a good liar, and she was starting to think that being at the North Pole would, strangely, require a lot of it.

* * *

Bernard mostly took care of moving Helen's luggage the rest of the way to her room. He somehow managed to carry pretty much _everything_ in two trips, leaving only one small bag for Helen to grab. For being a small guy, by human standards at least, he was astonishingly strong.

After that, Bernard immediately jumped into giving Helen a brief tour of the adjoining bathroom, making it clear that both the bedroom and bathroom were for her use alone. Apparently pretending to be married didn't require anything _too_ crazy.

It didn't take long before the little tour was complete. Bernard had just finished telling Helen how to get hot and cold water from the sink and tub, and it was clear he was about to say good night. Ever since the conversation downstairs a few minutes back in which Helen had agreed to pretend their marriage was completely authentic, Bernard had moved the night forward at a rush.

"Bernard..."

He paused to look at her. "Yes?" The look in his eyes was hyper intense. She got the impression he was like a river temporarily dammed up. All that energy could only be kept still for so long.

All the questions Helen had been meaning to ask died away. What her daily routine would look like, what kind of work she would do...how the heck they were going to pull off pretending to be in love.

Instead, different words formed in her mind, coming straight from her heart.

"Thank you. For all this." _This_ was what really mattered. She and Bernard were about to part ways for the night, and before they did, he needed to know just how incredible he was, for bringing her here. For making it happen. She smiled softly, studying his youthful face, with those strange, pointy ears and that funny hat she had thought must have been part of a costume at first.

There _were_ no words. 'Thank you' didn't even come close, really.

Bernard's entire mind changed gears, as he processed what Helen had said. He took in the gentle smile on her face, the gratitude she was expressing. He could feel it radiating off her; a feeling of warmth and joy. He felt the knot of tension which had developed downstairs slowly dissipate. And...it felt good.

Bernard found himself smiling back at her. "I...don't mention it."

Helen stepped forward, and reached out to hold each of his hands in her own, as she saw the tension melt away from his face. _There_ he was. The person she had let into her home a few nights back, the person who had taken her out to buy a Christmas tree, then sat and joked and _relaxed _with her on Christmas Eve.

They stood like that for a silent, happy moment. Then Bernard swung their arms left and right slightly, looking down at them as if fascinated by the movement. Then he glanced up, peering at her from under his hat, head tilted to the side slightly. The gesture was playful.

"I...hope you'll be _happy_ here, Helen."

"I think I _will_, Bernard." Helen smiled more widely, really relaxing for the first time since walking into his home. Bernard was _seeing_ her again- instead of seeing a task to complete. "_Really_. Thank you for everything."

He snorted, and gave her a lopsided grin. "Say that again in a _week_. I'll be putting you to _work_. Starting tomorrow."

"Wow! _Tomorrow_?" Helen was somewhat taken aback, and nearly started asking questions about how things would go tomorrow, but she reigned herself in.

"Yes." He squeezed her hands slightly. "Sleep well, Helen. I'll see you in the morning." With that, Bernard gently let her hands go, and excused himself for the night.

* * *

After Bernard left, Helen took a few minutes to settle in, and take a closer look at her new bedroom. It was beautiful, with an antique look to it. The ceiling was a creamy ivory, and the walls were a pale, soothing yellow. There was a beautifully carved set of dark wooden furniture, possibly mahogany, which included an armoire, a lady's vanity with an accompanying mirror and cushioned stool, and a beautifully carved canopy bed. The bed's curtains, which could be drawn around it for privacy, were a beautiful blue; the shade of a deep, clear, early evening sky. There were matching curtains framing the only window in the room, which was more than enough considering it was a bay window, with a love-seat built into it. Everything in the room looked old, and so carefully crafted. All the wood had a shine as if freshly polished, and everything, amazingly, seemed fresh and clean. Maybe there was some kind of magic at play, keeping it dust free.

The room might've come out of a fairy tale. It matched Helen's fantastical day. She fell asleep only minutes after snuggling into the bed, which was certainly comfortable enough for a princess. Everything...her schedule, what kind of work she would do, pretending to be a proper newly-wed...she'd worry about it tomorrow.

* * *

Bernard found it more difficult to fall asleep that night. He was back home at the North Pole, his memory was back, a new year _awaited_, but...

He was _distinctly_ aware that Helen was only a room away. And he was feeling just a little guilty. Helen would be sharing his home from now until...well, forever. She hadn't really understood that earlier- or, to be fair, he hadn't really made that clear. The North Pole was full of wonderful, loving people. But they still had...standards. Expectations. Especially when it came to marriage. He wasn't quite sure how explain that to Helen.

* * *

Author's Note: Comments are welcome! :) By the way, I wrote through this story out, then realized large sections were little more than a plot outline. So I spent some time re-working things and writing more on this, after having already posted the prelude. Long story short, sorry for the delay in getting this next section out! This is more of a work in progress than the previous story, though I'd say the majority has already been written. :)


	3. Learning the Ropes

**Chapter 2: Learning the Ropes**

* * *

The next morning, Helen was woken by the sound of Bernard loudly knocking on her bedroom door. She stared at the ceiling, feeling slightly shocked at the noisy wake-up call.

His voice, also loud, still managed to be pleasant enough, however. "Helen, up and at 'em! Breakfast in ten minutes! Then we're off to the Workshop! Are you awake?"

She sat up groggily. "...yes." She cleared her throat. "I'm awake."

"Great! See you in ten!" She heard him briskly walk away.

Ten..._minutes_? She needed to bathe! Helen kicked into high gear, throwing off the sheets, and went to a suitcase to rummage for a change of clothes. Oh, there was no _way_ she'd be down there in ten minutes...

Half an hour later, she came down the stairs to spot Bernard pacing back and forth in the front living room. He spotted her as he made a turn.

"Helen!"

Bernard strolled quickly over, grinning at her. "Good morning." He paused. "I...clearly misjudged how much time you need in the morning." He put his hands up as if holding off comments. "_My_ fault, though. Women need more time. Hair, makeup, whatever." He looked her over perfunctorily. "You look _nice_, by the way."

Helen's head was spinning a little at just how fast he was talking.

"Bernard...my clock says it's a little after four thirty in the morning..."

"Yeah, we're running _very_ behind. Come on, let's eat!" He pulled Helen slightly by the elbow, and she followed him to the kitchen table, sitting at the chair he gestured her toward.

She meekly went on with her train of thought. "I don't usually get up until around seven..." She stared at a mug Bernard was pouring steaming liquid into. "...is that coffee?"

"No, it's tea. Here..." He placed the mug in front of her, and Helen picked it up carefully, cradling it as it rapidly warmed up in her hands. She breathed in deeply, and was immediately reminded of the lovely spiced milk Bernard had made Christmas day.

"It has caffeine, if that's what you're craving. I know you're _used_ to coffee..." Bernard grinned at her, and sat across from her at the table, which was round, made of oak, and could seat four. Last night, Helen had noticed how much it resembled her family's kitchen table from her childhood. She had loved that table.

Bernard continued. "But, that's not really an elf _thing_. We don't need the stimulation." He smirked. "About the only thing we regularly consume that has caffeine is cocoa."

Helen blinked slowly. The wake-up call earlier had only shocked her into temporary wakefulness, and the adrenaline rush was fading. She took a careful sip of the tea. It tasted wonderful.

Bernard resisted the urge to remind her they were already late. He was usually at the Workshop between four and four fifteen every morning, it was true, but he had known today would entail a slow start. And Helen wouldn't be a proper elf for some time- _probably_ not until the following Christmas. She didn't have the physical ability to work his hours, and he didn't expect her to.

Not _yet_, anyway.

Bernard snorted a little, as he watched her groggily blinking into her mug, and then grinned. "I'm going to start you on cookie decorating today."

Helen looked up to blink at him instead of her mug. "Cookie decorating?" She frowned. "I won't be very good..."

Helen felt vaguely disappointed. That didn't sound like a job where, well...Bernard wasn't a _cookie_ decorator. He was Head Elf. When he had said she would be working under him yesterday, she had assumed he would be near her. With this job, that seemed unlikely.

"Will I see you during the day?" Helen stared at him, feeling a little lost.

Bernard smiled reassuringly. "Hey, of _course_. I'll pop in all the time. I keep track of my elves, _don't_ worry."

Helen's eyes dropped back to the mug. "Okay..." She felt like a kid whose best friend had just introduced her to _their_ best friend. '_My elves.'_ She was joining a crowd.

She smiled at her mug after a moment, rallying her thoughts. This was _silly_! She was going to Santa's _Workshop_ this morning! She was at the North Pole, a bona-fide, one hundred percent authentic winter wonderland! Except without the bitter cold! This was _pure_ magic. It was a miracle she was even here! She had absolutely _no_ right to mope.

Helen took another sip of tea, and sighed. Her thoughts went to her brother. She wished he could see where she was right now.

Bernard had been working his way systematically through his breakfast of eggs and hot porridge, with apple slices on the side. He stopped, catching Helen's expression, an apple slice halfway to his mouth.

"Helen...?"

Helen stared at him for a moment, then shrugged after her sleepy brain finally caught up. "I'm just thinking of, um...my brother." She smiled, trying to hide her mood. "Andrew...Andrew Benjamin Holiday. I don't think I told you his name."

Bernard put the apple slice down and stood up, grabbing the chair further down the table and dragging it right next to Helen's. He sat in it, then put his hand on the back of her chair, looking at her closely. She looked back, not sure how to react, and finally dropped her eyes, feeling shy.

"I..." Helen found that Bernard's scrutiny only amplified the feeling of loss she was trying to push away. She looked up again, back into searching, gentle brown eyes. She blinked rapidly, and shook her head, as tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. "I shouldn't be crying." She laughed, embarrassed at herself.

"Of course you should." Bernard's voice was unusually soft and low. "It's only been a _month_, right?"

"Yeah..." It felt like a year, for all the pain she'd felt. Helen set her mug down, pressing her hands together under the table, head bowed, as she tried to hold herself together. A large sniffle escaped.

Bernard scooted closer, and pulled her into a gentle hug. They stayed like that for a few long moments, as Helen sighed and sniffled, trying to get herself together again. She calmed after a little while. Bernard slowly pulled away, but gently took her hands in his, surrounding them in warmth.

He was tempted to tell her the pain would get better in time. But it wasn't necessary. She already knew that, having lost her parents years ago. And...Bernard _also_ knew that some kinds of pain never completely died away, such as the loss of a loved one.

A few more moments passed, as they both looked down at their joined hands. The wedding rings they both wore glowed softly in the gentle light. Helen found them comforting. It signified that they were connected, not in the typical sense, but there was still a bond there. In a way, Bernard was family now.

Bernard finally looked up, trying to catch Helen's eye, and a moment later she shyly returned his gaze.

His lopsided smile came back. "You know I'm _here_. If you _need_ me. Right?" Helen nodded, and gave him a watery smile.

"_Anyone_ here would go out of their way to help you through this. And_ so_..." Bernard drew out the word 'so', a little reluctant to continue, because he knew Helen might not like what he was about to say.

"...If I'm not easy to find when you need someone, let anybody around you know that...you need a _shoulder_ to cry on. Or _whatever_ it is, Helen. Can you do that?"

Helen tried to hide her disappointment. She didn't think she could do that at _all_. It would be strange. Embarrassing. She'd be imposing on some stranger she didn't even know, and who didn't know her either.

Bernard looked down at their joined hands briefly, and gave them a squeeze. Then he looked up again, smiling gently, head titled to the side a bit, knowing he was asking for her understanding.

He spoke softly. "See, I'm always on my _toes_ as Head Elf..."

Helen looked into his gentle brown eyes, struggling with herself. Bernard had done so much for her. It..._wouldn't_ hurt to tell a white lie, to put him at ease. She didn't want him worrying about her, and didn't want to make a fuss either.

She finally nodded, and made herself smile, to say she understood. She might not _really_ be comfortable asking a random stranger for a hug, or a shoulder to cry on. But, she would be living with Bernard. If _he_ could put up with her...that was enough. Her smile grew more solid, as she drew strength from that thought. _Bernard_ would be enough.

Bernard's smile returned, as he saw her finally relax. "Good. Now...I _know_ it's early for you, but can you eat?"

Helen grinned at that, and raised her eyebrows doubtfully. "Maybe a _little_..."

He returned the grin. "A little is _great_, it's perfect." He stood up, gently disengaging their hands, then reached up to briefly tousle her hair.

Helen pulled a face at the motion. "Hey, I'm a grown _woman,_ Bernard." She frowned at him in mock anger, then grinned.

He chuckled under his breath. "Sorry."

Anyone who was in touch with the spirit of Christmas was in touch with their inner child too, and Bernard could see that innocent, child-like faith in Helen very clearly. If she didn't have that quality, he never would've brought her here, because _as_ a grown up, transitioning to being a Christmas elf just wouldn't have worked out.

A few minutes and a few bites of food later, they headed out, walking toward the Workshop together.

* * *

As with the house, Bernard gave Helen a tour of the Workshop. It was rather shocking for her, because he didn't refrain from calling to people and interacting as he saw fit while walking along with her. The Workshop was already busy, despite it only being only a little after five in the morning. Bernard hadn't been kidding when he told her they were running late.

"Santa's Workshop is a lot of things, uniquely combined. Wood working, metal working, plastics, electronics, food production- you name it, we probably do it." Bernard paused as something caught his eye.

"Hey, Maurice! Get back to your department!" A skinny, freckled elf, presumably Maurice, nodded a tad surreptitiously at another elf he'd been talking to, and briskly walked off.

Without pausing for breath, Bernard went on. "I'm not taking you through the entire Workshop today- but you _should_ still get a good idea of what we're up to here."

Helen grinned. "Making toys, I hope..."

Bernard nodded at her, though his eyes kept busy, scanning as they walked. "Right. But there's a lot _more_ to do than that. For instance, as technology improves, we have to keep on top of making sure the Workshop and the surrounding area remain secret..."

An elf ran up to Bernard, making him pause. The elf was nearly two feet shorter, but Helen presumed he wasn't actually a child. She had seen yesterday that Bernard towered over most of his own kind.

"Bernard! I've got a _quick_ question..." He threw a quick nod at Helen, eyes zipping to Bernard.

Bernard returned the brusque greeting. "Ralph, I'm all ears."

The elf Ralph fell into a brief description of improvements he wanted to make to a particular production method used the previous year. He sounded eager to implement the changes, and Bernard sounded interested. They set a meeting for later in the day to nail things down, and Ralph went on his way.

Without losing a beat, Bernard picked up their walk again, pointing things out to her.

As they went, if Helen had any questions, she couldn't quite manage to ask them. Finding space for more than a brief comment was difficult- although to be honest, Helen was happy just listening and observing anyway. Bernard was like a marathoner- his movements weren't harried or hectic, but they never stopped. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his own skin in this place. He knew practically everyone by name, and also what their job was. And he obviously kept a running to-do list in his head. Or probably _several_ to-do lists. She had yet to see him note anything down.

Also, Bernard didn't exactly rush- but he _never_ moved slowly. Helen wondered where he got all the _energy_ from! If he lived in the human world he'd probably be the hands-on CEO of some small, fast paced, bizarre company that produced a little bit of everything- but mostly toys.

Helen couldn't be sure, but it seemed that, as she and Bernard moved through the Workshop, they were getting a few stares. Well, she _was_ his brand new wife.

Helen's guess that the elves were staring was confirmed as they paused for a moment in a section of the Workshop which focused on puzzles, mind benders, and other games of that type.

Bernard crossed his arms as he came to a brief stand-still. "This is a fun area...you might like it here. The _trick_ is to make the games fun for the kids, but also acceptable to the kind of parents who need games to be training exercises in disguise. Because if _we_ can't manage it, those kids are generally doomed to receive something mind numbingly boring..." he broke off suddenly, and raised his voice.

"Bobby, you know what my wife _looks_ like now, right? Or are you planning to stare all day?" He raised an irritated eyebrow, and Helen followed his gaze to just barely catch an elf yanking down the front of his cap to cover his eyes as he worked.

Bernard clasped his hands together, and nodded perfunctorily at no one in particular, then looked toward Helen. For the first time, she detected just a hint of embarrassment.

He raised his eyebrows, and gave her something between a smile and a grimace. "Right! Next up is wrapping..."

Less than fifteen minutes later, Helen was standing with Bernard, about to be introduced to the people she would be working with for now. The group of elves in question currently sat around a humongous round table, all of them icing sugar cookies.

Bernard clapped his hands a few times to get everyone's attention. Everyone stopped what they were doing and immediately looked at him. By this point, Helen wasn't surprised at the reaction.

"Hi everybody! As you're probably aware, this is Helen, my wife. She'll be working here for two weeks."

Everyone stood, smiling and nodding over to Helen. Someone jogged over to grab a chair for her from nearby, everyone shifting things slightly to accommodate her at the table.

"Hi Helen! I'm Lauren." An elf probably about a head shorter than Helen came forward to shake her hand. "I'm the head cookie decorator. It's a joy to meet you." She smiled warmly.

Helen nodded, and returned the smile, feeling shy. "Thanks. Its nice to meet you too."

Lauren looked toward Bernard, who nodded at her. "I trust you'll take good care of her, Lauren. Everybody! Show Helen what it is to be a cookie decorator." With that he gave a little wave, then a brief grin in Helen's direction, and left the room.

Lauren's smile returned, with a touch of dry humor. She could see the speed of Bernard's departure had caught Helen a little off guard.

"Well, that's the Head Elf for you. _Congratulations_, by the way!" Lauren partly turned to face the table behind her, still smiling.. "Everyone, let's give Helen a warm welcome..."

The elves, all still standing, didn't hesitate to break into applause, and a few shouts of congratulations. They all seemed overjoyed. Helen smiled awkwardly, soaking in all the warmth around her. It felt as if they were sending her a wave of love, it was practically tangible. She couldn't think of a place she'd had an experience like this before.

But then_, this_ was Santa's Workshop. It wasn't like any place else.

Helen decided to put Bernard out of her mind for now. She imagined he would probably come pick her up later, and check in through the day too- although she wished she'd asked him what to expect before he left.

* * *

After the applause had died down, everyone around the table had briefly introduced themselves, and before long Helen was seated and icing green Christmas trees onto a sugar cookies. Sadly, her first attempts resulted in cookies only a kindergärtner's mother would be proud of.

Before long, conversation had started up, and soon someone - Betty, an elf sitting two chairs down - addressed Helen directly.

"Yesterday was _such_ a surprise, you know." Betty glanced over and grinned. "I think everyone had assumed our Head Elf would never marry."

Helen could sense that she had suddenly gained an audience. She continued trying to ice her cookie. It gave her an excuse to avoid eye contact.

"Oh, well...really? Why is that?"

Betty grinned. "Well...I suppose you've never seen him at work before."

Helen shook her head slightly, glancing up briefly to smile. "No, I haven't."

"Elves are really _hard_ workers." There were a few nods around the table, and mumbles of agreement. "But our Head Elf? He's the hardest worker of us all. He _is_ work, you might say. That's what his life is. And you don't want him to catch you slacking!"

That made Helen look up again. It was involuntary. She found she wanted to defend him. His life _was_ more than work. "Maybe that's just the side he shows everyone _most_..." She left it there, open ended, and pursed her lips while applying a blob of green to the top of her latest tree.

"Oh, well...that's why we're so amazed. It's _obvious_ we were wrong about him! But where did he find the _time_?"

Helen had glanced up just in time to get caught in the cross-hairs of Betty's perplexed, albeit well meaning, stare. She found herself blushing. Betty; _everyone_, really; just wanted to hear a little about how they had fallen in love, how Bernard had pulled off this apparently amazing feat. Which was natural...but it was _exactly_ the topic Helen had been hoping to avoid. She swallowed, and said the first thing she could think of.

Her voice came out sounding tiny. "I _suppose_...he's very good at time management?"

Then she focused very hard on icing her cookie again, painfully aware of the heat in her cheeks. Part of her wanted to laugh at how absurd that sounded, even to her own ears. Lauren spoke up, making a comment about icing consistently, and the conversation moved on. They had obviously gotten the clue that she was embarrassed.

* * *

That afternoon, right after lunch, Santa came by to visit. After greeting everyone as a group, Santa asked Helen to walk with him for a bit. She excused herself, and they strolled off, arms linked.

"Helen." There was that joyful twinkle in his eyes that she loved. A part of Helen was still in awe that she was actually face to face with Santa Claus. She doubted that feeling would ever completely die away.

"How are you settling in?" Santa glanced around, taking a look at the latest cookies Helen had iced. She felt tempted to block his view.

"Everyone's been _wonderful_...I'm not very good at icing cookies, though." She laughed a little.

Santa smiled warmly. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find your niche sooner or later. Just enjoy yourself and take your time."

Helen felt the stress she hadn't realized was there evaporate at his words. "It's absolutely _amazing_ here. Like something from a fairy tale. I'm very thankful."

Santa bowed his head for a moment, still smiling. "How are you settling in at home?"

"Santa...my _room_. It's so beautiful."

Santa caught her eyes again. "And Bernard? How is he?"

"Oh, he's..." Helen turned her eyes away for a moment, thinking. "I feel grateful to be staying near him...he's an anchor for me right now. Everything is so new and uh...well, _you_ know. This isn't _Kansas_ anymore." She laughed a little, and he joined in. "I...hope I'm not imposing, though. On him."

Helen realized that, while her words were true, she had a much bigger worry than that. Was Bernard _really_ such a busy person? How much time would he have for her?

Santa squeezed her arm briefly, that gentle smile back. "Helen, believe me when I say that you're _exactly_ what Bernard needs in his life. Don't feel bad."

They talked about other things after that, and the conversation ended with a dinner invitation set for two weeks later. Santa and Mrs. Claus were leaving for a vacation in the Bahamas in just a few hours, but wanted to make sure and catch up with them both _right_ after getting back.

Helen said goodbye, disappointed that she wouldn't be seeing them for two weeks, but she kept that to herself, instead wishing for Santa and his wife to have a lovely vacation. Santa gave her a hug before departing, and Helen returned to the cookie decorating kitchen.

Later that day, when it was time to go home, Curtis showed up to meet her. He made his way over to Helen as other elves were saying their goodbyes and heading out the door.

"Hi Helen!" He smiled widely up at her.

"Hey Curtis." She returned the smile, glad to see a semi-familiar face. He had been a witness at her wedding, after all. Unfortunately, Helen had a feeling why he was here.

"Bernard is pretty busy right now, so he asked me to make sure you get some dinner and escort you back home." Curtis said it matter of factly, a smile still on his face.

Helen chuckled a little, clamping down on the wave of disappointment she felt at having what the elves had said earlier so quickly confirmed. "I guess that means the honeymoon's over..."

Curtis laughed a little too easily at that. "_Right_. So, what would you like to eat? I'm starving!"

Helen made another mental effort to remove Bernard from her thoughts for the time being. He was busy, end of story. She wasn't going to throw a temper tantrum about it.

* * *

Before long, Helen and Curtis were walking through what had to be the world's largest food court. Helen had been there for lunch earlier that day, having gone with the cookie decorating team, but it was still an impressive sight. The food court was outdoors, making it more like a humongous bazaar, and the variety of food was incredible. The cuisines seemed to her to be authentic, rather than the various fast food equivalents found in most food courts Helen had visited.

The entire atmosphere still said "Christmas", in the festive and upbeat spirit, and the warm and courteous people themselves. But the variety of expression and culture was a relief. The workshop itself could quickly become a little stifling for her, given all the greens and reds, the wreaths, the toy trains...to be surrounded by that everywhere would've been too much. She supposed the elves thought so too.

Curtis, despite being "starving", was giving Helen plenty of time to walk along and soak in the surroundings. After a while, however, he piped up again, a grin on his face. "So...what'll it be? Cantonese? Russian? Ethiopian?" He put an apologetic hand up. "No wait, I'm being _too_ specific. How about...East or West?"

Helen grinned down at Curtis. He could be so funny without meaning to. "I'd be grateful if you picked. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed."

It ended up being Cantonese, his first choice, and before long they were sitting, each with a steaming plate of food. Neither spoke for a few minutes as they dug in.

"So...Curtis. I wouldn't peg you as a Cantonese food lover." Helen took a sip of water, having curbed her initial hunger, and smiled, trying to start a conversation.

Curtis finished chewing a bite of food, swallowed, and pushed his glasses slightly further up his nose, looking up at her. "Oh? Well, at over nine hundred years old, you can bet I've tried just about every food on the planet! And let me tell you...this place probably offers the biggest variety of _quality_ food _any_where. We elves know how to get the details right." Curtis smiled just a little smugly, then caught the expression on Helen's face.

His eyes grew wide with concern. "Helen? Are you okay?"

Helen was thinking back to her conversation with Bernard a few days back. She'd...forgotten. What he'd said about his age.

When she finally responded, her voice was much quieter than before. "I'm..." She swallowed. "Curtis, how old are you again?"

Curtis blinked at her. "Well..." he thought for a moment, "To be exact, I'll be nine hundred and thirteen in July."

His words sent Helen drifting in a feeling of surreality. Somehow, up until now, it hadn't hit her like this. The environment around her, the fact that this was all _real_...

How had she gone twenty-four hours _without_ freaking out?

Curtis, by now, had noticed how distressed she was. As Helen stared into space, he reached tentatively over, patting her hand slightly.

"I know what's happening, Helen. You're experiencing the _Santa Isn't Make-Believe After All_ syndrome. We call it SIMBAA syndrome for short." He smiled knowingly, still patting her hand. "My age really _isn't_ important. Every day is what counts, and what you do with it, as they say." He smiled his mildly dorky, upbeat smile. "One foot in _front_ of the other!"

"Thanks..." Helen smiled, thankful for his attempt to comfort her. The strange acronym, amazingly, helped to ground her as well. She wondered if Santa's Workshop had heard of _The Lion King_.

But she still couldn't stop herself from asking the next question. "Curtis...how old is _Bernard_?"

Curtis shrugged. "Oh, he's around fifteen hundred or so." He did a double take at the shocked look on Helen's face. "Hey, remember what I just said?" He looked at her carefully, and tried a different approach. "The _Big_ Guy's only fifty, you know."

Helen tried her best _not_ to think about Bernard's age, now that she had an answer. She replied in a high pitched voice, feeling a little light headed. "The 'big guy'?"

"That's one of our nick names for Santa." Curtis put his hand to his chin, looking like a pint sized lecturer. His tone turned academic. "Of course, he's practically immortal now- barring _accidents_ of course- but currently he's only...middle aged, I believe, by human standards." Curtis let his hand drop, and smiled helpfully.

Helen ate very slowly after that. So, the elves were wildly ancient but looked mostly like children...while Santa, meanwhile, was actually about thirty years younger than he looked. Sheesh.

_Bernard is fifteen hundred..._

Her mind couldn't quite finish the thought.

Curtis, meanwhile, had gone on to explain about Santa's age, still intent on calming her down. Apparently there was a "Santa Clause" of all things - a contract. Curtis, as the elf directly under Bernard, was in charge of the written records at the Workshop, so he had a _lot_ of information to share. He seemed to have difficulty differentiating between what was interesting and completely dull...but the basics were quite incredible.

Santa had started out as an average human; technically he still _was_, in a way. Although, as Curtis pointed out, to be more accurate, he was in a category all his own. Not a human, not an elf; he was _the_ Santa Claus, one of the Legendary Figures- whatever that meant. Santa's human name was Scott Calvin, and since there had been Santas before him, certain people tended to call him Scott instead. Bernard, especially.

Scott's transformation into Santa had apparently been quite shocking for Scott, at first. According to Curtis, he'd been in denial for most of the first year, as his body slowly changed regardless of what steps he took to stop it...

Curtis seemed to find the thought of Scott attempting to get rid of his white beard, a trademark of all Santas, quite funny. Helen took the opportunity to cut in as he laughed.

"Curtis..." She cleared her throat nervously as he stopped to listen. "What about me?"

Curtis looked at her seriously, responding in his child-like voice. "What do you mean, Helen?"

"Well..._Bernard_ said...I would change. Into an elf."

Curtis blinked at her, once, then nodded. "That's right! You will." He cleared his throat in a very official sounding way, and brushed his hands together as if dusting off crumbs. "Are you ready for me to escort you home?"

Helen stared for a moment, caught by surprise. Was he...was this where their conversation stopped? "Um, sure..." She frowned uncertainly, and they both stood.

Almost as soon as they started walking, Curtis picked up the conversation again, to Helen's relief. "Now, I can't give you a first hand account of what it's like -changing from a human into an elf, that is- but I actually _did_ do a little research on it because I _thought_ you might be curious." He grinned up at her triumphantly as they walked.

Helen smiled back, genuinely surprised at his thoughtfulness. Although, it _was_ kind of what he did.

Curtis put on the professorial look again. "I found a very interesting mention of the process; it's an account given in _Most Unusual Elves_, one of our smaller manuscripts..."

Helen bit her lip, holding back impatience as he launched into unnecessary details. She nodded as he spoke, keeping silent for fear of lengthening the tangent.

Then he mentioned something Helen found she _had_ to comment on.

"...and that's why you qualify, by the way. Marriage is one of the few ways a human can become an elf, actually! It makes sense, of course; most elves take twenty years just courting. By the time you got around to having children, the human would be getting too _old_..."

Helen's eyes went wide as she processed the last sentence. "Wait..."

Curtis paused, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

Then she hesitated. Curtis, despite being at her home as a witness to the wedding, hadn't ever quite caught on that it was solely so that she could come to Santa's Workshop. He, as far as she knew, thought it was because she and Bernard were in love. She went on cautiously.

"It's just...," she cleared her throat, looking studiously at the ground as they walked, "I hadn't realized most, um, courtships lasted twenty years." She licked her lips, then glanced over at Curtis, hoping he would elaborate for her. Twenty years? _Seriously_?

"Oh...yes!" He grinned good naturedly at her. "Why, my own mother and father took nearly _thirty_ years to court." He blinked, as if just realizing something. "Say...you and Bernard must've moved pretty darn fast. _Gosh_!" He looked slightly scandalized for a moment, then laughed. "That _Bernard_..."

"Well, you know..._h-human_ courtships are usually a few years at most..." Helen bit her lip again, not sure whether to laugh or cringe. If Curtis knew they'd only known each other for a few _days_...

Curtis looked nonplussed. "I _guess_ that makes sense. And Bernard is really efficient, he doesn't waste time! And," he frowned to himself, clearly still trying to rationalize only taking a few years to date and get married, "there _was_ Cathrine and Fred, about fifteen years back. They only courted about six years, although it was a bit of a _scandal_ in some circles..."

Then Curtis stared up at her, and she could practically see the question forming on his lips.

Helen spoke first, determined to derail that train of thought. "So, Curtis, I'm _really_ curious about what to expect, you know...about changing into an elf?" She looked at him imploringly.

Curtis looked forward for a moment. "Right, right..." Then his face, uncertain for a moment, calmed, and Helen knew the danger was past. He wouldn't ask her how long she and Bernard had "courted" after all.

Then he pulled out a little leather-bound book, and held it out to her. "Here!" He grinned up at her. "I've bookmarked the page. It's only a few paragraphs long."

Helen took it, and read the cover. The words were tooled into the leather. _Most Unusual Elves._ Helen stared at it, then looked over at Curtis, who was still smiling up at her.

"It's kind of funny, but since you're married to our Head Elf, I can let you borrow this. Isn't that neat? Just," he squinted at her for a moment, with a very serious look on his face, "don't tear the pages, don't spill anything on it, and don't read it in really bright sunlight. Keep it in a slightly cool environment with low humidity, and everything will be fine. Basically, if you have any doubt about doing something with it, don't."

They had just arrived at the front steps of Bernard's house. "You make it sound like it's _really_ valuable..." Helen held it carefully, feeling a little hesitant about taking it with her now.

"Oh, it's priceless! One of a kind!" Curtis blinked up at her through his glasses seriously for a moment, then smiled. "But so are you. And this is a _big_ change. I trust you."

Helen wasn't sure what to say. His words were so kind. She held the book to her chest, and smiled at him. "Curtis, I _promise_ I'll take good care of this book. _Thank_ you."

Curtis smiled and nodded, and they said goodbye. Helen climbed the steps, all five of them, and waved as he continued on, heading to his own home. Then she let herself into the house, book in hand.

* * *

Author's Note: Yikes, I'm sorry for the delay in posting this! I should be able to pick up the pace from here on out. If you could take a moment to review I would appreciate it, by the way. I love comments and suggestions. :) Thanks so much to the ones who have taken the time already! :D


	4. Dinner With The Clauses

**Chapter Three:**

**Dinner with the Clauses**

* * *

It was completely dark out now, but Bernard still wasn't home yet. As soon as Helen realized that after having let herself in the house, she went about making herself a cup of tea. In a few minutes, she was sitting on the couch in the front living room, the smell of peppermint wafting from the coffee table nearby. The book Curtis had lent her was sitting in her lap.

Helen was tired, but also filled with a nervous energy. What would this book tell her? Part of her wanted to wait for Bernard, to ask him directly, so that if there was anything shocking in it, he might...soften the blow for her. And also, perhaps stubbornly considering how tired she was, she wanted to see Bernard that night. She wanted to be there to greet him when he got home.

But then...Helen was _awfully_ curious. Also, there was really no telling when he might return, and if she fell asleep before reading it then there likely wouldn't be time until tomorrow night to pick the book up again. So, after taking a deep breath, she turned to the page Curtis had bookmarked for her, and started reading:

_ Why Santa chose to bring me to the North Pole remains a secret between he and myself, but let it suffice to say, he did, and I am eternally grateful. In the description below, I won't dwell on my own state of mind, but rather on the peculiar physical changes I experienced after choosing to live as an elf in this magical place._

_ Upon first arriving, and for a few days following, no notable change could be seen or felt. In as little as a fortnight, however, I experienced a marked improvement in strength and stamina. I cannot say how much, early on, should be attributed to my receiving regular meals and sleep, however, and how much to the changes inherent in my gradual transformation. I will say that the strength of even the weakest elf is doubly that of a full grown man, and that the strongest among us could do astounding things, if we chose to disguise ourselves as men. _

_ Another distinct change is that my vertical growth stopped. My height, to this day, is still only four feet and seven inches, as I was a boy of ten when brought here. The change began, I believe, almost immediately, as I had been experiencing a fast period of growth prior to my arrival here. In the world of men I surely would be considered no more than eleven or twelve years of age to this day, as, along with my height remaining unchanged, my youthful features remain as well. I have children of my own, yet not a wrinkle on my body can be found, nor spot, blemish, rotted teeth, or indeed any of the other maladies which befall humankind over time._

_ Within a year of my arrival at Santa's Workshop, my ears, initially rounded at the top, slowly developed the tell-tale points common to all elves. And, although I was only a youth of ten, I was distinctly aware of my body becoming more supple, and full of vibrancy. The physical strength of elves is a natural extension, I think, of the energy which flows through our small frames. _

_ My eyesight also improved, as well as my hearing. The hearing was something I noticed one day, quite suddenly, as I realized that the morning bell, used at the Workshop to denote the rising of the sun, which I thought didn't penetrate into the room where I had been working, did in fact reach my ears there. The day I heard the bell was the day I understood all the heretofore meaningless comments and gestures made at that time of day by various elves with me there. Indeed, all the senses; taste, touch, smell, and of course hearing and sight; thus improved markedly in that first year._

_ My mind, as well, became sharper. My memory, once so hazy, became very clear. I could recall entire conversations, with a little concentration, which had passed days before. I could also recall what a thing looks like, and see it again with all its movement and color, at will, behind closed eyes. The ability to focus, on whatever task there might be, grew many times over. The sheer amount of work done by every elf here, previously daunting to me, changed to something gratifying to take part in. Rather than feeling mental strain, physical fatigue, and the hopelessness a human might experience if asked to work the daily schedule of any elf, I found instead, by year's end, the work to be both uplifting and productive._

_ My individual circumstances, having been extreme in the human world, make it difficult to objectively judge what changes during my transition from human to elf, in an emotional sense, should be considered normal. However, I believe it is safe to say that anyone undergoing this change will become more cheerful over time and that, also given time, one will never shun work, but rather relish it. It seems to be the nature of elves to not understand and certainly never experience laziness, or apathy. These traits are solely human. Also, although elves certainly possess a full range of colorful emotions, it can truthfully be said that they are such even minded, warm, kind, thoughtful people that the negative emotions rarely have a reason to surface in anyone here. _

_ I would be remiss, as well, if I didn't briefly mention the fact that elves have magic whereas men do not. Upon arriving at Santa's Workshop, I naturally possessed no magic whatsoever, but within the space of a year I developed the usual qualities, along with a somewhat rare ability known as second sight, which allows me to catch glimpses of the future. This, of course, is the reason I write this account, as I feel it will prove useful to someone who finds themselves in a situation such as I did as a child, and who would benefit from a better understanding than I had of what the transition from human to elf entails._

_~Blessings and Joy~_

_Edmond LeCroix_

Helen turned the page and confirmed, with mild exasperation, that this was all Mr. LeCroix had written. The author of _Most Unusual Elves_ had treated LeCroix's comments as an excerpt, defining his origins as a human as one of the characteristics which made him worthy of inclusion in the book. The "usual qualities" of magic elves possessed weren't deemed worthy of detailing out, she supposed.

But...she would get _magic_! Helen didn't know what that meant, other than possibly developing second sight, apparently, but the very thought was incredible. And, she'd get stronger and smarter, and working long, hard hours would become _appealing_? Pointy ears seemed to be inconsequential by comparison.

She read the whole thing through once more, and then a third time.

Then, when the feeling of surreality had gotten a little too intense, she reached out for her tea, to steady herself. Helen stopped suddenly, however, remembering how valuable the book she held was. Feeling dazed, she stood up, walked upstairs, deposited the book on the vanity in her bedroom, then came back down again. Sitting down, she went for the tea, pressing the only slightly warm mug against the palms of her hands.

It was incredible. It certainly helped to explain how Santa's Workshop could function as it did. But it was strange to think that she wouldn't be the _same_ any more, that her personality could change. Not even understanding what laziness _was_? Being incapable of lazing about occasionally would be a _big_ change for her. Being more "cheerful" didn't sound bad, but...at the end of this year, would she recognize herself? She couldn't help feel worried that what made her who she _was_ wouldn't be the same anymore.

Helen found herself thinking of Santa...no. Scott. He had tried to get rid of that long white beard at first. Who had he _been_ before? What had happened to the man who had donned that red coat ten years ago? Was he still in there?

Helen stayed on the couch, stoically waiting. She wanted another person's company, someone to look at her and smile, and reassure her. She wanted Bernard to come through the door and tell her she was being silly, and that he would be there through this process, to...to make sure she stayed _herself_.

Some time later, Helen finally dozed off, curled up on the sofa.

* * *

Bernard silently let himself in his front door, aware that Helen would've gone to sleep hours back. His mind was full of all the things he had caught up on through the day- and all the work remaining to be done over the coming days. Still, the call of sleep had finally lured him back home. Despite the temptation to just keep going, an all-nighter wasn't called for when slightly longer hours for a few days would suffice to catch things up perfectly well.

Bernard had walked most of the way to the stairway at the back before he noticed something odd. He stopped, and slowly turned back around.

A grin spread across his face. He silently walked back over to the front sitting room, and looked down at where Helen lay sleeping. She made no noise when she slept, not even a faint whisper of a snore, and he'd passed right by her in the semi-darkness. Something had caught his eye, though- maybe the cup sitting on the nearby coffee table.

Bernard crouched down, studying her. Had she been waiting _up_ for him? He carefully pulled back a few strands of hair which had fallen in front of her face. She was hardly as tiny as some of the elves here, but Helen still seemed small and delicate, curled up into a ball as she was. Her brow was furrowed just slightly, and Bernard wondered if she was dreaming.

Were they happy dreams? His hand hovered over her forehead for a moment, then he rested it on the couch instead. Just a touch, and he might have a glimpse of her thoughts, if he concentrated. The mind was completely unguarded during sleep. Bernard silently shook his head. It was so easy to forget boundaries with Helen. He wasn't sure why.

_Still_...

Bernard carefully reached forward, maneuvering to get Helen into his arms, and slowly pulled her until he was crouched, holding her bridal style, with her head carefully tucked into the crook of his elbow. Then he stood carefully, bringing her with him. He became very still, focusing for a moment...and in the _next_ moment, he was standing in her bedroom, upstairs.

Bernard walked to the bed and set Helen down on it with supreme care, arranging her limbs so they were in a natural sleeping position. Then he quietly unlaced her shoes, pulling them gently off her feet, and carefully drew the sheets over her. There. Her sleep would improve in a proper bed. There was nothing wrong with doing _that_ for her, at least.

Bernard paused for a long moment, looking down at her as she breathed gently in and out, a warm, protective feeling in his heart, a gentle smile reaching his face. Then he rolled his eyes at himself, shaking his head again.

There was just something about being a Christmas elf; you _loved_ to see people sleeping peacefully.

Bernard quietly left Helen's room, using another elvish trick to slip quietly right through the wall her that bedroom shared with his own. It was something all elves could learn to do; make themselves _change_ for just an instant, and slip through walls like that. It had become second nature to Bernard ages ago, and was certainly easier than bothering with the door.

Bernard half smiled, half grimaced as he started to get ready for sleep. It would certainly be interesting when Helen learned that trick.

* * *

The next several days were a blur for Helen. She slowly got used to being woken by the sound of Bernard eagerly banging on her door in the morning. She would pull herself out of bed, quickly shower, eat breakfast, which Bernard always had prepared, then briskly head out for the Workshop with him.

It was the only time she saw him. The rest of the day was spent in the cookie decorating kitchen, and in the evening someone, sometimes several someones, would always invite her to dinner with them- but it was never Bernard.

_Most Unusual Elves_ had suggested her energy level would improve, but so far Helen found that the early hours and long days, even if it wasn't physically demanding work, left her exhausted. She had grown quiet, mostly listening to the people around her talk. Unlike them, she didn't have the ability to hold a conversation and do good work at the same time.

Speaking of conversations, for some reason, Helen hadn't brought up the book during her conversation with Bernard that first morning. She had been bone tired, having only gotten what must've been perhaps an hour or two of sleep the night before. She hadn't remembered finally dragging herself upstairs, even. And once she had failed to tell Bernard once, something held her back from bringing it up another morning.

After a few nights, Helen also gave up on waiting up for Bernard in the evening. And, as her routine became solid, she slowly began to accept what the others had told her: he was a workaholic. He clearly enjoyed their short time together every morning, as did she- it was, to be honest, the highlight of her day. But she was sad to think he didn't make time to be around her more. He _certainly_ didn't know the meaning of laziness, but oh, she _wished_ he did.

There was an emotional pressure building. Helen was surrounded by happy, warm, giving people...but _she_ wasn't happy. She felt more worried as time passed that things that _should_ make her sad, things that _should_ have meaning, eventually wouldn't effect her any more. That she would be happy, but in a sort of generic, meaningless way. Part of her _knew_ that this fear was irrational. Bernard wasn't that way, or Curtis, or Santa. But more importantly, Helen was still mourning her brother's death, and the thought of forgetting him, of not feeling pain because she no longer _cared_...that wasn't a fear she could easily push away.

Unfortunately, Bernard, the person she felt most drawn to, the _only_ person she felt comfortable really sharing her feelings with, wasn't really available.

* * *

Things passed in much the same way over the next two weeks, and during that time it started to feel like Helen was running a marathon she hadn't trained for. Today, thankfully, was when Santa returned, and she vehemently hoped this would mean a change in Bernard's schedule, as Santa would hopefully be taking over some of his work.

That morning Helen managed to get herself up earlier than usual, taking more care with her hair and even putting on a little makeup. She wore a dress, something she hadn't done since her first day at Santa's Workshop. She didn't know if they would return home before going to dinner, after all, and she wanted to look nice.

When Bernard knocked on her bedroom door, Helen opened it to greet him.

"Good morning." She grinned up at his slightly surprised face. His hand was still raised. He let it drop.

Helen blushed just a little as Bernard ran his eyes up and down her once, looking impressed. "Good morning!" He backed up a little, and they both walked toward the staircase.

He didn't comment on the fact she was dressed up _nicely_, however. Helen smiled a little wistfully, surprised at how disappointed she felt.

"So...I thought I ought to dress up a little, since we're going to dinner with Santa and his wife."

Bernard stopped suddenly on the stairs, and Helen nearly ran right into him, resting a hand on his shoulder to avoid tumbling down.

Helen removed her hand. "Sorry..."

Bernard put a hand to his hat in a sudden motion, oblivious. "Dinner!? Right, _right_..." He went from exasperated to grumpy in one instant, then continued down the stairs double time. "I've got to re-arrange some meetings..." He glanced over his shoulder at Helen. "It's a good thing you're ready early!"

Breakfast went double time too, and by the time Helen was dropped at the cookie kitchen, she found she didn't even know what to expect- would Bernard finally be picking her up from there himself, later on, or was she expected to meet him at Santa's home, wherever that was?

Helen went through the day trying her best not to be grumpy, or worse; depressed. She'd never rushed so much in her life, but it seemed to be all that Bernard _did_.

* * *

Bernard did his best not to go through the day being more grumpy than usual. He had completely forgotten about the dinner with Santa and Mrs. Claus that evening, but thankfully Helen hadn't. Santa and Carol, during their arrival back at the North Pole around mid-day, mentioned that they were expecting him and Helen at seven that evening. And that Bernard "wasn't allowed" to think about the Workshop at all during dinner. The conversation would be all about him and Helen, instead.

Oh. Joy. _That_ would be a short conversation.

It wasn't that Bernard didn't like Helen. But how much was there to talk about, _really_? She was here, now, they were "married", but the Clauses, unlike everyone else at the North Pole, _knew_ that wasn't real in the traditional sense. It hardly mattered- he was sure conversation would still flow. But dinner was definitely a nuisance; as usual, things were on the verge of running behind, particularly since he'd had to catch up after being gone in the days leading up to Christmas.

Bernard did have a pang of something, though, like a a niggling afterthought, in regard to Helen. In his mind's eye, the image of her smiling expectantly up at him in her bedroom doorway, kept returning.

* * *

Bernard arrived at the cookie decorating kitchen at six forty-five that evening, practically the latest he could pick Helen up without then being late to the Claus's.

An unusual sight greeted him there. Helen sat, alone, at the huge round decorating table. Her hands rested in her lap, head slightly bowed, as if in prayer.

Bernard walked over to her quietly. He was surprised no one was around, but she had probably told them to go ahead. This _was_ when everyone went to eat. Santa's Workshop believed in regular, square meals.

Bernard tapped Helen gently on the shoulder. "Hi there..."

Helen jumped slightly, and quickly pressed a hand to her eyes, bowing her head deeply for an instant, as if hiding. Then she looked up at him, gaze strangely hooded.

"Hey...is everything okay?" Bernard studied her face, but her emotions were hidden away, behind a careful smile.

Helen's voice was quiet and clipped. "No. I mean, _yes_. There's nothing." She stood up. "I just wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. We didn't..._communicate_, earlier. I didn't know..." She dropped off, and he caught a glimpse of pain, as she glanced down and away.

As usual, being around Helen was causing Bernard's thoughts and worries concerning the Workshop drop away. But this time, in their _place_...was guilt.

Instinctively, Bernard leaned forward a little. More than ever, he wanted to touch his forehead to hers, to get a feel for what was really going _on_ in there...

Helen started to lean back as he leaned forward, and he straightened up immediately, realizing how strange that would seem if he continued. And, he could hardly tell her he _only_ wanted to touch foreheads to read her mind. There he _was_, so easy-going about invading her privacy again!

Still, Bernard could guess, as he glanced around the empty room. "Were you worried I...wasn't going to come get you?"

Helen's eyes widened just enough to tell him he was right. Bernard shrugged, and snorted softly, at his own thoughtlessness. "I'm..._sorry_, Helen. I should've..._communicated_, like you said. That was thoughtless."

Seeing the guilt and concern in Bernard's eyes made Helen feel guilty herself, but also relieved that he understood. He _did_ care...and he _hadn't_ forgotten her. She swallowed back the remainder of the depression she'd been feeling moments back, and shook her head, eager to reassure him.

"No, no, it's...it's _fine_. Well, it's not _fine_, but...just, don't do it again, okay?" She smiled up at him, relief and joy on her face.

Bernard smiled back gently. "I won't. I promise."

Then he reached down, taking her hand, and gently pulled her toward the door. "Come on, we'll be late." Bernard smiled at her again, and Helen followed, catching up so she walked by his side.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later saw them standing on Santa's doorstep, Bernard having just knocked on the front door. Santa opened it moments later, and greeted them with arms spread wide.

"Helen! Bernard! Come on _in_..." Santa stepped back, and as he closed the door behind them, Carol Claus arrived in the front room as well.

"Helen!" Carol reached out, taking Helen's hands in both of hers. "You look lovely." Helen blushed happily.

"_You_ look lovely, Mrs. Claus."

Carol smiled warmly. "Oh, no...it's just Carol. Please." Then she got a funny look on her face, as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh! Let me see..." Carol leaned forward, inspecting something next to Helen's face, then moved back again, smiling ruefully. "No points _yet_..."

Helen's hands went to both ears, her eyes wide as she felt for them herself. Nope, still the same.

Everyone in the room burst out laughing at her reaction. Even Bernard laughed a little. Helen smiled sheepishly.

Santa grinned at his wife. "I think it takes a _little_ longer than that..." He clasped his hands. "So! Ready to eat? I'm starving!" He gestured toward the dining room, and before long everyone was seated, Bernard and Helen on one side of the table, Santa and Carol on the other.

The food was already laid out, ready to be served to their plates, and in a few minutes, everyone had begun their meal.

Bernard made the mistake, early on, of bringing up an issue at the Workshop as a conversational topic. Santa was quick to cut him off.

"Ah, ah, _ah_...Bernard. This is _personal_ time. You know how this works." He smirked over at Helen. "He _always_ does this. One track record."

Bernard rolled his eyes, giving up, and went back to his food.

"Do you want to know something interesting, Helen? This house, and your house, they're actually _direct_ extensions of the Workshop, connected to the magic there. Bernard, and me...if something goes wrong, we'll know. And as our wives, you and Carol should _also_ know, but Bernard tells me it should be..." He paused, glancing over at Bernard expectantly. "Well, Bernard?"

"Hey, I thought the Workshop was off _limits_..." Santa give him a look, and Bernard smirked. He looked over at Carol, then Helen. "In _that_ case, I'll answer the question. It's really strong for me and Scott, but for _you_ it should only be an echo. A feeling of something _not right_, if you know what I mean."

"Kind of like indigestion or something?" Santa took a bite of food, chewing as Bernard stared back at him.

"Yes, Scott. _Exactly_ like what you'll be feeling later tonight." He glanced over to Carol. "Nothing against your cooking, Carol, the food's excellent."

Carol smiled warmly. "_Thank_ you, Bernard."

Santa narrowed his eyes. "Hey, a healthy appetite comes with the gig, you know that better than anyone, Bernard."

Carol, prodded Santa slightly in the ribs. "Of _course_ he does, Scott. Right, Bernard?"

"Right. Naturally. Part of the..._role_." But his eyes still laughed a little, poking fun. Helen watched the interaction. What a funny pair these two made. Santa and Bernard, that was. Carol almost acted like referee.

Santa explained a bit more. "So, the last time there was an emergency, I was actually _away_ from the North Pole, so I was mostly oblivious to the whole thing. Actually...it's when Carol and I were getting to know each other..."

Bernard rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Meanwhile, _I_ was put under house arrest." Bernard grimaced at his plate. "Fun times. The Workshop was letting me know something was wrong, but I couldn't do _anything_ about it." He stared up at Santa, from under his hat. "I had a headache for _days_."

"Hey! Okay, fine. Plastic Santa was a _bad_ idea. You're completely, _totally_ right." He raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Haven't we had this conversation?"

Bernard smirked. "Yeah, yeah..._anyway_, my point is, Scott's right. The Workshop let's me _know_ when there's a real emergency. As long as I'm at home, or at the Workshop. Or here, of course."

Santa looked thoughtful for a moment. "If it makes you feel any better, I got a little karma thrown my way while you were gone, Bernard...I guess the Workshop didn't like that its Head Elf had gotten himself lost any more than the rest of us did." Santa and Bernard looked at each other for a moment, and Helen could see what good friends they really were at heart.

"Huh." Bernard gave him a lopsided grin. "Well...I hope your headache wasn't too bad."

Santa gave a good natured wave, brushing away the concern. "Don't worry, I survived."

There was a lull in conversation for a few minutes, as everyone ate.

"_So_...Helen. Bernard." Carol leaned forward, placing her chin daintily on her criss-crossed fingers, elbows on the dining table. "How are things going with you two?" She smiled at them both, everything in her expression saying _I'm all ears_.

If Helen didn't know any better, she would've assumed Carol thought their marriage was for love. She glanced shyly over to Bernard, who seemed oblivious.

"Helen's great! She's just about the easiest person to be around that you can imagine." Bernard glanced her way, grinning slightly, and took another bite of food.

"So, how much time are you two spending together?" Carol's look hadn't changed.

Helen picked at her food, knowing she ought to answer since Bernard was still chewing. But something held her back, making her hesitate, and a few seconds later Bernard answered again instead. Helen didn't want to admit how little time they saw each other every day.

"We eat breakfast together every morning. Then, you know, my day is much longer than hers so we don't see each other in the evening...but I look in on her during the day several times."

Helen stared down at her plate, surprised. Then she looked up at Bernard. "You...do?" She realized belatedly that it sounded like she was calling him a liar, and went on. "I mean, I didn't know." She quickly took a bite of food, to be doing something.

"You don't face the door where you sit, but yeah, I check up on you during the day. _Just_ like a said I would." Bernard smiled warmly at Helen, feeling protective, and almost tousled her hair, just as he had that very first morning after she moved in, but remembered at the last second that she wouldn't like that, and settled with patting her shoulder a few times instead.

Helen tried to stop the blush threatening to rise to her cheeks. Bernard had just treated her like a small child in front of the Clauses, and it was embarrassing. It didn't matter that he was much, much older than her.

For love or not, they _were_ technically married. A husband treating his wife like that was just plain condescending.

Hating that she was feeling so resentful all of a sudden, Helen quickly forked another bite of food into her mouth, to hide her feelings, and mentally told herself that she was overreacting.

Carol let her hands drop from her chin to the table, giving Bernard a somewhat stern stare. "So. You guys only eat breakfast in the morning together? Bernard, you need to set aside a few nights in the week. Spend time with your wife!"

Bernard stared for a moment before responding. He honesty didn't know how to interpret that. He tried to phrase things carefully, but felt a little exasperation well up. "There a _lot_ of things to do to make Christmas _happen_ every year, Carol..."

"Of _course_, but..." Santa caught Carol's eye again, and she dropped off, something passing between them. She smiled, tilting her head in acknowledgement. "I'm sure you'll make as much time for Helen as you possibly can, Bernard."

Bernard was on the verge of reminding Carol that this was _only_ a marriage of convenience, so to speak, but refrained. She had a point. Helen was lonely. _That_ was what he'd seen in the decorating kitchen, that she had hidden away so quickly. Carol could probably tell. Empathy was one of the biggest traits a Mrs. Claus always had, after all.

Right now, Bernard was failing Helen, as a friend.

"I...can do that, Carol. Promise." He smiled, calling a truce. He reached to the side, squeezing Helen's shoulder, and glanced over to her. "I haven't been around much, have I?" He smiled apologetically at her.

Helen stared at him, wide eyed.

How did she tell Bernard that she wanted to go back to Christmas day, when it had been just them, together every minute? Singing and talking, joking...cooking together. That the lack of his presence these last two weeks had obviously hit her much harder than she had realized, until just now. And also, just this minute, she was realizing that she _couldn't_ have that again.

Bernard had been telling her as much for the last two weeks, through the schedule he kept. In this place, he didn't have _time_ for her. He'd just said as much to Mrs. Claus. As the realization that Santa and Mrs. Claus coming back from vacation would _not_ fix her problems finally sank in, a wave of depression crashed down on her, and she had to fight the urge to run away from the table, to hide how ungrateful she felt, how disappointed and disillusioned. Because these people were loving, and wonderful, and...the was ashamed to even be feeling this way.

Instead of jumping up to run away, Helen forced herself to speak through an overly tight throat. "I'm..." she cleared her throat loudly, "I need the lady's room. Sorry..." She got up abruptly, feeling her cheeks flushing red.

Carol told her where to go, as they all watched her clumsily get around her chair, and then Helen scurried off.

* * *

Dinner with the Clauses ended on a polite, warm note. Everyone had given Helen the benefit of the doubt earlier that her reason for fleeing had been gastro-intestinal rather than emotional in nature, and conversation had moved tactfully on after her return from the bathroom. After saying goodbye, she and Bernard started out toward home together in the semi-dark.

Bernard reached out and took her hand as they started walking, swinging it back and forth in a playful gesture. This time Helen didn't find it endearing. It made her think of the way he'd patted her on the shoulder earlier. She remained silent, although she didn't withdraw her hand.

Bernard could feel the emotional tension coming from Helen, and after several seconds he finally gave up on her relaxing, and gently let her hand go again. He glanced down at her, trying to discretely see her face. He put his hands in his pockets, and whistled a line from "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" under his breath.

"I had to sing a line from that song when Scott- _Santa_- first came here. He didn't know what I meant by 'the list'." Bernard grinned, laughing a little under his breath at the memory.

Helen responded, sounding distant. "...oh? That's funny." She smiled half heartedly. Bernard walked in silence for several moments. He'd never seen her this disengaged.

Minutes passed in silence, as they walked.

Then, as if waking up, Helen finally said something. "I'm going to..._change_ like that?" She abruptly stopped walking, staring up at him plaintively. She looked very afraid, and Bernard stared back in complete surprise.

"Change...?"

She looked down at her feet, lips drawn in a thin line. "Like...like _Scott_." She bit her lip, brows furrowed.

Bernard sighed. They were practically home, and this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have outside in the dark. He pulled her lightly by the elbow, and after a moment of resistance she started walking with him again, head bowed.

"Helen, I think we need to talk..."

* * *

Author's Note: Comments, questions? Kind of a slow chapter I guess. ^^ Thanks to those who reviewed! I appreciate it!


	5. Most Unusual Elves

Chapter Four

Two Most Unusual Elves

* * *

Somehow, Bernard had assumed that Helen would simply ask him questions as they came to her. But two weeks had gone by already, and their conversations had remained light and focused on general things; her work at the Workshop, his work at the Workshop...the weather.

In retrospect, Bernard knew better. He _knew_. But he'd put Helen on the back burner, not informing her, not bringing up the details of how her life, her _body_, would change. But he'd been doing it to give her space, time to breath...right?

Now he wondered at his motivations, as he stood in the kitchen, catching a glimpse of her where she sat, slightly hunched, on one side of their couch in the front living room.

Bernard finished putting the tea kettle on, and walked over to the couch, taking a seat a few feet away from Helen. When they had first got home, she had gone quietly upstairs, and returned with a book, which now sat between them on the couch.

_Most Unusual Elves_. He looked at it, then looked up at Helen again.

Bernard sighed to himself, and broke the silence with a gentle voice. "I can only think of one elf who would've lent this to you. Curtis." Bernard paused. That was completely beside the point. He was just upset with Curtis for not telling him, but Bernard knew he'd only had the best intentions. It was Helen who should've told him, anyway.

Bernard rubbed the back of his head with one hand in a nervous motion, then hastily let his arm drop. "I...nevermind about that. Do you want to talk about what you read?"

Silence. Helen's eyes remained downcast. "Are you... worried about the physical changes?"

Helen stared down at the book, arms crossed. He noticed her jaw clench slightly. "Why would I be worried about getting stronger and never getting sick, and having more energy?" Her voice was mildly admonishing. She didn't look up as she spoke.

She was angry! As far as anger went, though, Bernard had to admit it was pretty mild.

He tried to make a joke. "Heck, maybe you're imagining getting fat and growing a long white beard!" He grinned, but Helen hardly twitched.

"I read the excerpt." Her voice was quiet, but her lips were drawn into a thin, angry line.

"Right...sorry." Bernard reached forward, meaning to pick up the book and quickly glance over what Helen had read.

As he reached for the book, Bernard's fingertips fell on top of Helen's hand, as she reached for the book as well, at the very last moment. The accidental touch jolted Bernard in a strange way- maybe because it _was_ unexpected- and he pulled back.

"Listen, Helen, I can _see_ you're angry. Tell me what's going on. What you're feeling. I can help you _through_ this."

Helen stared at him, eyes suddenly wide and angry. "You _can't_ help me through this. I'm changing from one...," she searched for a word, "_species_...to another! And all I have is a page written by someone eons ago telling me my _personality_ will change!" She half turned, looking across the room, face tight with fear. He saw regret there too, and she bowed her head again. "I'm sorry." She rubbed her lips together in a nervous motion. "Bernard..." She stopped, and shook her head.

He prodded her gently. "What were you going to say?"

Helen looked at him again, uncertain, then frowned sadly. "You..._can't_ be there for me. What you said earlier? Don't. Just...don't tell me you can, because you obviously _can't_. You're too busy to...really _be_ there."

Bernard stared back, feeling stung. Helen had just told him that he didn't understand what she was going through, he didn't have the time to help, and...to not _lie_ to her anymore that he did.

"So...you think I've lied to you." His voice came out sounding hurt. The instant he spoke, he wished he could take the words back.

"Bernard...I didn't say that." Helen was on the verge of tears now. She stood up suddenly. "I can't talk to you right now..." She wiped a hand across her face, dashing away tears. Bernard stood up as well, and reached out to stop her as she turned toward the stairs. He caught her wrist, gently, but refused to let go.

"Hey, wait, come on..." He lowered his voice, tone apologetic and soothing. "Come on, just relax. It's going to be okay. I'm sorry..."

Helen breathed heavily for a few long moments, then made a conscious effort to pull herself together, and turned back to face him. The moment she met his eyes, she lost it again.

"I'm afraid. I'm _afraid_..."

Bernard gently pulled Helen into a hug. She tried to explain through broken sentences, as she slowly got his shirt wet with tears. "I get up, a-and go to the Workshop, and come home again...I only s-see you a few minutes in the m-morning...and I'm _tired_, I don't know anyone here. I _m-miss my brother_..." She cried for a few moments, unable to speak. "And you're so cheerful, I don't want to always _dump_ on you the only time you're _there_..."

Bernard rubbed her back gently, and wondered what to do. For the first time he was rethinking the wisdom of bringing her with him. Would she be able to adjust? Was this really best for her, in the long run? Being married to him? _Stuck_ with him, was more like it.

Helen whispered something under breath, half hidden in a hiccup. "_I'm lonely..._"

Bernard's heart clenched at those words. Santa's Workshop was a busy place, and he was the busiest elf of all. He didn't have time for a wife, even a _pretend_ one. Somehow, in the Spirit of Christmas, on that day of the year miracles happened, on that day Santa was most in tune with all things good, and his magic was the strongest...Bernard had let go. He'd gone with the whispers of his intuition, common sense set aside.

Surely there was a light at the end of the tunnel for Helen. Decisions made in that way, on _that_ day- they _always_ had wisdom at their root. Bernard sighed silently, still rubbing her back.

That was right. This was just a stumbling block, a _low_ point. Helen was still dealing with her brother's death. She felt isolated because she didn't know anyone. These things would change. Bernard hugged her closer and, almost instinctively, let his energy flow into her a little. Love, warmth, the protectiveness he felt...

Helen slowly relaxed, the trembling sobs subsided, and she finally rested her head on his chest. She was tired. Bernard could feel that, and feel how sad she was. A deep loneliness, masking grief over her brother's death, was there too, strong enough that it was hard not to get pulled into that feeling, and second guess himself again.

"Tomorrow, I want you to take a break. There's someone I'd like you to meet- her name's Judy. You can have _fun_ with her. Wander around the Workshop. She'll keep you out of mischief." He smiled softly, then rested his chin lightly on top of her head. A moment later, he grew serious again. "I think this schedule is too much for you. And, Helen..."

Bernard pulled back to look her in the face. Her cheeks were wet with tears. "You'll still be _you_. I promise. If you believe _anything_ I tell you, believe _that_. All that happens is...," he paused, letting his eyes drift as he thought, "you get stronger, and healthier. You soak in all the positive energy in this place...and all that _energy_, the wonderful people...they make you _happier_. You see the best in life, instead of the worst. I..._know_ this."

Helen looked up at him, eyes glittering with tears...and curiosity. "How?"

Bernard leaned down, until his face was at Helen's height, then gently rested his forehead against hers, as he'd wanted to for nearly two weeks now. He smiled softly at the guileless, gentle personality he felt through that connection.

Then he rolled his eyes, and grinned lopsidedly. "_Because_...haven't you noticed how _big_ I am compared to everybody else?" He waited, feeling the mild shock his words gave her. "A long time ago, Santa brought _me_ here."

Bernard slowly stood up straight again, letting the empathetic connection drop away. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Helen."

She stared, wide eyed, her mouth forming a tiny 'oh'. "But why not?"

Bernard shrugged. "I haven't thought of myself as human in a _long_ time. It's distant now. And not..." He pulled a lopsided grimace. _Not worth remembering._

Just then, the kettle started whistling, and Bernard pulled away from Helen. "Hold on..."

* * *

A few minutes later found them back on the couch, each with a mug of herb tea, gently wafting the soothing scent of peach into the air.

The warmth of the mug on Helen's palms alone did a lot to calm her. It felt like something had opened up inside her, and all the questions that had been boiling away somewhere were finally ready to be asked, without so much fear or hesitation attached to them.

Something made her shy away from asking Bernard about his human past just yet, though. Maybe it was the thought that the Second Elf had handed her a book on the changing process, but hadn't thought to mention Bernard _himself_ used to be human. But maybe...Curtis didn't know? In any case, she hadn't imagined that troubled look in Bernard's eyes, just before the kettle started to whistle...

Instead, Helen asked another question on her mind. "So...I'll just...be happy all the time?"

Bernard took a careful sip of tea, thinking. "No. Not all the time." He grinned at her, his face partially obscured by the mug. "Remember how I was, when you assumed that I was a teenager? I got pretty upset."

Helen smiled, huffing at the memory. "Yeah..."

Bernard nodded, having made his point, then continued.

"It's _more_ like...you know how people can change, when they're sick? Or when they're afraid about something? Or...when they've lost someone." Bernard stared at her, then dropped his eyes. Helen looked so sad, as she absorbed that last sentence.

"They feel angry, or depressed, and they snipe or slam the door, even become violent...they say and do things they wouldn't. _If_ they weren't feeling that way. You know?"

Helen's eyes were distant. "Yeah."

"So imagine, if you had all the worries taken away, and your body felt healthy, I mean really, _really_ healthy, and you had something wonderful and fulfilling you were doing with your life...and on _top_ of that, you can think more clearly, your memory is better, your mind is naturally organized. And you're surrounded by wonderful, happy, giving people. Energy is pouring into you, your thoughts and your body, and into everything you do. _That's_ what this change is. It lets you be your best self, and at one hundred percent, all the time."

Helen snorted gently. "Kind of like the Energizer Bunny."

Bernard looked uncertain. "Yeah, I guess?"

Helen blinked at him in surprise. "You don't know what that is, do you?"

Bernard looked nonplussed. "That would be a _no_?"

"It's...not important." Helen smiled at him. Her mind was on her brother again. But the fear was mostly gone. Bernard wasn't some automaton. So why had she assumed _she_ would be?

Helen yawned a little, and started to pull herself into a cross legged posture, facing Bernard completely. She paused, realizing her shoes were in the way, and took them off, setting them on the floor. Her feet ached. She had worn high heels today, for that silly dinner she had put so many expectations into.

Helen crossed her legs, then gently rested her mug on one of her heels, letting the warmth penetrate a little. Then she asked the question she was too curious to pass up after all. "So, you were telling me that...you know how this change works because _you_ were brought here way back? By Santa?"

Bernard smiled lopsidedly, having observed Helen's attempts to get more comfortable. "Yeah. _Way_ back. By a different Santa, of course."

Helen looked across at him, feeling shy. He hadn't continued. "I guess...you don't want to talk about it."

Bernard remained quiet for a long moment, looking thoughtful. "No, no...it's so long ago now, it's almost like another life. But Santa doesn't bring just _anyone_ here, you know? My life as a human kid wasn't pretty." He shrugged again. "There's not a lot worth sharing, is all."

"I guess...you must've been an orphan, right?" Helen smiled sadly.

Bernard nodded. "Yeah."

"How old were you?"

Bernard shrugged at that. "Couldn't say." He saw Helen's surprised look, and clarified. "Anywhere from fourteen to sixteen, maybe? Old enough to be considered an adult, back then. But not by _Santa_, thankfully."

Helen stared. Her voice was gentle when she spoke. "You really don't _know_, though?"

Bernard smiled at her surprise, and shook his head gently. "No. Where I was, the people I was with...they didn't keep track. And..." he hesitated for just an instant, "the person who _might've_ known died years earlier." He gave her a quick, half-hearted smile.

They both went quiet after that, drinking the tea, which had cooled a bit. Bernard looked thoughtful, and just a little sad. Helen was hesitant to ask anything else. All this time later, and this topic still had _some_ kind of effect on him.

When Helen finished her tea, she rested the mug on the nearby coffee table. She started gently massaging one of her feet, thinking to herself. She wouldn't ask any more questions. It didn't matter, anyway. The past was done with.

"Here..." Bernard set his own tea aside, then scooted closer to Helen, resting a hand on her foot. "Let me?" She lifted her hands, which he took as permission, and pulled her feet into his lap. He started a gentle massage on one foot, looking down at it as he worked.

Helen remained quiet. It felt very nice, and his hands were very warm. But it was just a tiny bit awkward. She had always thought that a husband, or at _least_ a boyfriend, might be coaxed into doing this for her some day. The thing was, Bernard _was_ her husband now. Just...not like that.

Maybe she was just too up tight. Helen sighed, giving up, and leaned sideways against the back of the couch. She could feel the tension slowly draining away.

After a while, Bernard spoke, voice gentle and warm. His eyes were distant. "I used to massage my mother's feet like this. When I was four or five, I would guess. Her feet always hurt, all the time." He sighed. "I remember feeling so happy that I could help her somehow." He smiled gently.

Helen remained quiet, watching his face. That sounded so sad...but he must've been such a sweet child.

Bernard continued. "My time as a human kid was really valuable, Helen. It gave me the understanding of why Christmas is so important. It _motivated_ me to get where I am today. There's a lot of darkness in the world, and it's an enormous blessing to be doing what we do. I'm still _thankful_ to that Santa, to this day. For gifting me with the opportunity to bring a smile to children's faces, all around the world."

Bernard smiled his lopsided smile, as he carefully worked, rubbing the ache out of her sore feet.

Maybe it was because his words had been so sweet, so sincere. Maybe it was because a guy massaging her feet was a romantic cliché. Or, maybe Helen was finally relaxing, and she already genuinely liked Bernard as a person. But she suddenly saw something different when she looked at him. A possibility.

Of something _more_, with him. Of a real marriage.

As soon as Helen realized the change in her thinking, she gently pulled her feet away, curling them under her. "Thanks. And _thank_ you...for sharing." She smiled softly, her eyes conveying the love and sympathy she felt.

Bernard didn't shy away from her gaze. "_Don't_ feel sorry for me, Helen. It was a long, _long_ time ago. I'm happy to share a little of what makes Christmas so important to me." He glanced down. "And...that's not an excuse for being negligent in my friendship toward you. I forgot that you're far away from everything you know, that this is a new place. Of everyone here, I should've been _particularly_ aware...so, I'm sorry. For letting you down."

Helen shook her head, emotion welling up. She wanted to tell him he was wonderful, and it was her own fault, really- she had kept it all in, until it overflowed. But she only smiled, instead. As usual, there was something stopping her from voicing her thoughts, that shyness she had fought against her whole life.

Bernard grinned, reading enough from her body language to know he was forgiven. His eyes narrowed playfully. "So. Tomorrow's a vacation..."

Helen smiled, feeling both relieved and disappointed that he had moved on.

She jokingly replied, not thinking about her words. "What if my idea of a vacation is to follow you around all day? Would that be okay?" Her voice was playful, and she realized...a teensy bit flirtatious.

Bernard's eyebrows went up, and she could practically see him visualizing her doing that. "Well...it's _your_ choice, how you want to spend your time." His grin returned. "You'd have to be quick on your toes." Then he became serious again. "But I want you to relax."

Helen shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "I was just...joking. Ha. Following you around all day." She looked off to the side, hoping Bernard couldn't tell her thoughts. Where had this suddenly _come_ from? Was she was _actually_ crushing on him?

Bernard leaned forward a little, enough to gently brush her shoulder, so that she would look at him again. He was completely sincere, his voice gentle and kind. "Hey, if that's what you want, that's fine with me. Okay?" He tilted his head sideways just a bit, looking a little like a loving puppy dog.

Helen smiled back, unconsciously adopting the lopsided grin Bernard used so often. "No, I was...I was just being silly. _Really_." She laughed gently, and dropped her eyes. At least Bernard was innocently oblivious to her embarrassing thoughts. But she couldn't help feel disappointed, too. As he kept demonstrating, Bernard saw her has a child. A grown-up child.

Helen stifled a yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. The stress of all her emotional ups and downs was catching up- or maybe just the time of night.

"Well, I think the melatonin just hit my bloodstream, Bernard..."

He blinked once, eyes widening with curiosity. "Melatonin?"

Helen smiled. "It's a hormone...it makes you sleepy." She sighed, and slowly stood up. "Anyway. I guess...bed time for me. Before you have to carry me again." She snorted lightly in amusement, thinking back to their first day together.

Bernard looked surprised. "I thought you hadn't remembered!" His lopsided smile returned. "I was _sure_ you would say something the next morning."

Helen did a double take, surprised. "I..._did_. Remember?" She saw Bernard raise a single eyebrow at her. He looked confused. "You...you're talking about back at my old _house_, right...?"

"No..." He frowned. "Two weeks back, I found you asleep on this couch." He patted where he sat. "So I took you up to your bed."

Helen was flabbergasted. She responded, wide eyed. "I don't remember that at _all_."

Bernard raised one eyebrow again. "Yeah, I can _see_ that." He grinned, then stopped, as Helen still looked amazed and a little afraid. He stood up, to face her better. "You were dead asleep. I just didn't want to wake you up." He shrugged. "And the next morning, you probably assumed you put _yourself_ to bed. That's all." He smiled reassuringly.

Helen looked down at her toes, blushing deeply. Her embarrassment only got worse, as Bernard continued to watch her, and all she could do was stand there, feeling her face get hotter and hotter. How had he walked _all_ the way upstairs without her waking up? Had she been snoring? Was it hard, walking all that way, holding her? Had he tucked her _in_? She felt ashamed, and the realization from minutes back that she was developing feelings for him made it ten times worse.

Bernard wasn't sure what to say. He finally frowned in consternation. Maybe he'd over stepped again. Maybe he _should've_ woken her? Or maybe she was just embarrassed that she had put him to trouble, and didn't even remember?

He made a point to sound upbeat as he spoke. "Hey, _relax_. It took less than a minute. It was no trouble, really!" She finally looked up, and he smiled at her reassuringly. He could see the confusion in her eyes as to _how_ it could've taken under a minute, though, without her saying a thing.

An idea sprang into his mind: an easy, quick way to explain. "Why don't I just _show_ you...then you'll _see_ what I mean. Here..." Bernard stepped close, placed his hands on Helen's waist, closed his eyes, and...

_There_. They were in her room, next to the bed.

Then Helen reacted. She gasped, then let out a tiny scream of surprise, reaching out to grab Bernard's upper arms tightly.

"Hah...hahhhh...how? _That_ was...?" She stared up at him, then looked around her as best she could without letting go...then stared at him again.

Bernard laughed, just a little. He almost couldn't help it. "I can teleport, remember? I guess you forgot..." With the way Helen reacted, this suddenly felt like more fun than it should've been. He tried to hide how amused he was feeling as he continued. "Look, that was a bad idea. I should've warned you." He finally felt a little guilt sneak through, as Helen's skinny fingers, still digging into his upper arms, really started to register.

Helen, meanwhile, was still reeling. But more than that, she was aware that suddenly, and unexpectedly, she was standing rather close to her..._pseudo_-husband, in her bedroom, at night, and he had his hands on her waist!

As if something of her thoughts had transmitted to Bernard, he finally let his hands fall away. He smiled down at her. "Are you doing okay now?"

Helen slowly relaxed her death grip on his arms, but was secretly tempted to squeeze for all she was worth, for just a moment. "You...what a _stunt_!" She glared up at him, an intense feeling of exasperation running through her.

Almost involuntarily, Bernard's smile widened, and Helen realized he had enjoyed surprising her. That _didn't_ help things!

"You really...you're _laughing_ at me right now. In your head. _Aren't_ you?" Helen's exasperation increased as his smile turned into an outright grin. "You...!" Helen crossed her arms to stop herself from shaking him back and forth.

"I'm sorry. Really!" Bernard put both hands out as if surrendering, not sure himself where this mischievous streak had come from. "Well..." he paused, letting his hands drift to rest lightly on the back of his head, "time for bed!" That grin popped up again, unbidden. "I can tuck you in, if you need?"

Helen put her hands on her hips, face turning completely red. "That's _totally_ inappropriate! You...!"

Bernard tilted his head, briefly confused, but quickly caught on. Then, as if addressing an elf who had forgotten what day Christmas was, he responded. He rolled his eyes, shrugging slightly.

"I'm your _husband_, Helen. Remember?"

Helen's eyes narrowed, as Bernard's grin returned again. "Do I _remember_?" That was the last straw! She might not be able to surprise Bernard with a stunt like sudden teleportation, but she could still turn the tables in a heartbeat!

"Then...give me a _kiss_, you rat!"

With her shyness for once missing (mostly because she didn't really expect to be kissed), Helen stepped forward boldly. As expected, Bernard stepped hastily back, caught by surprise, and soon Helen was walking, then chasing after him around the room, half yelling, half laughing at having called his bluff.

Bernard started laughing too, as he evaded her, knowing she was joking just as much as he had been. Touché!

"Come on! You call this a _honey_moon? Getting up at four in the morning, working all day, no weekends...it's slave labor! You _owe_ me!"

Bernard, despite laughing plenty, still had no problem evading her. Helen kept on, though, calling him a name occasionally.

"Good for nothing...!" Over the bed.

"Worst husband _ever_...!" Around the bed.

"Smart aleck!" Over the bed again.

After a little while, Helen finally stopped, hands on knees, breathing heavily. She couldn't even get close. He was way too fast. Not that she was really trying to kiss him. Although _kicking_ him sounded pretty good.

Helen pointed to her lips with one hand, the other still resting on one knee. "Come on. _Right_...here..." Helen puckered her lips in a goofy pretend kiss for a second. Then she coughed once, from the hard breathing, and gave him a mock glare. "Smart aleck." He _ought_ to have the decency to at least be breathing hard!

Instead, Bernard was standing with his arms _and_ legs crossed, safely on the other side of the bed. He was still grinning away.

"Gee. You're so _slow_, Helen."

Helen grinned back, though her grin had an edge to it. Then she lunged forward, grabbed a pillow off the bed, and lobbed it at him as hard as she could.

Bernard laughed out loud at her attempt to get him, as he easily caught it. "You are _completely_ outmatched..."

Helen let out a high, keening yell- not unlike Xena, warrior princess- and dashed across the bed one more time, grabbing another pillow as she went. Before long she was pummeling Bernard with it. Having a pillow of his own, he got her a few times too, but his blows were soft and carefully placed, unlike Helen's.

Helen's pillow finally broke, and they were both surrounded by little feathers. Helen was completely out of breath again, her chest heaving, and _meanwhile_...

Well. Bernard had that lopsided smile again, and was only mildly out of breath. Hardly at all, really. Helen eyed him, but had to admit thwacking him with a pillow had made her feel a _lot_ better.

She got her breath more under control, taking a long deep inhale, then let it out in a long huff. She looked up at him, feeling surprisingly good- and a little sheepish. "I feel better now." She stared at him for a moment, as if daring him to say something. When he didn't, she finally smiled; that grin of his was contagious! "I never knew you were such a..._rascal_."

Bernard tossed his pillow back to the bed, still smiling. "To be fair, you've only known me a few weeks." He raised an eyebrow. "_I_ never knew you were so violent!"

Helen responded by giving him one last half hearted whack with her pillow.

Bernard laughed, and pulled it away from her. She let him.

"Poor little pillow! _Look_ what you did." Probably a fourth of its feathers were scattered on the floor around them. Bernard petted it in mock sympathy.

Helen finally laughed again, putting her hands on her hips, then sighed deeply. "I think _you_ should fix it. You provoked me." She smiled up at him, trying to look innocent.

Bernard's eyebrow went up again, as if to say "oh _really?_"

Helen put on a serious face. "Unlawful teleportation...causing shock, nearly fainting, or um...what _could've_ been _cardiac arrest_ in someone with a weaker constitution. Followed by _mockery_ of the victim, and..." She cleared her throat, eyes narrowing. "And _you_..." She poked him in the stomach rather hard. "You're _still_ laughing!"

"Ouch!" Bernard _was_ indeed laughing as he spoke. "I apologize! Really! Hahaha..." Helen continued poking him, vindictively gratified to inflict damage, however mild.

Bernard stepped forward suddenly, and in one swift motion Helen found herself picked up bridal style and being carried toward her bed. Then she was deposited, bouncing slightly, on the covers, to her mild shock. Bernard stood next to her, arms crossed, grinning. "So...you want the _no_ tucking in option, right?"

Helen was tempted to go after him again, for a moment. Then she finally gave up, and flopped back, crossing her arms, where she lay flat. She stared at the canopy of her bed grumpily, but couldn't maintain the look. "Ohh, get _out_ of here. Nut!"

_What am I, five?_

She turned onto her side, pointedly facing away from him.

Bernard gazed down at Helen, suppressing another laugh. She had sure taught _him_! Or the pillow, at least. He hadn't felt this happy since...well, since _Christmas_, he supposed, when he'd realized there was a way to put a smile on Helen's face, by bringing her back with him to live at the North Pole.

Bernard leaned down a little, and brushed his hand down her hair, pulling a few stray strands in place. She tensed slightly, but otherwise ignored the gesture. He laughed softly, then affectionately addressed her back.

"Good night, Helen." He stepped back, heading around the bed, toward her bedroom door.

Helen followed Bernard with narrowed eyes, as he came into view. He opened the door, then stopped to look back at her, still smiling.

After a moment, she huffed, and rolled her eyes at him. But she was smiling back, and her voice was gentle when she replied.

"Good night, Bernard."

Bernard's smile softened, then he turned to let himself out, gently closing the door behind him.

Helen stared at the door for a long time.

Well, there wasn't any doubt about it now. She was falling in love with that goof-ball. And he didn't have a clue.

* * *

Author's Note: I love reviews! Thoughts and comments are welcome. :) Thanks for reading!


	6. Playing Dress-Up

**Chapter Five**

**Playing Dress-Up**

* * *

The next morning, Helen slept in.

At first some internal "wake up!" alarm had gone off, prompting her to consciousness very early in the morning. Then she had remembered that this was a vacation day, and got that euphoric feeling of relief at realizing she didn't have to do anything at _all_ right then- other than turn over and go back to sleep.

A few hours later Helen woke a second time, at which point she began to wonder what Bernard was up to. And so, feeling maybe a little too comfortable in her own skin, she threw her robe on and wandered downstairs.

A note greeted her there, on the kitchen counter:

"Helen,

If it's four in the morning, go back to bed! Today's your vacation day, remember? I'm at the Workshop, but will drop by around eight in the morning to check on you.

Bernard"

There was a little smiley face, of all things, drawn in right after the second sentence. Helen snorted softly. Then she blinked, and did a double take. Wait! It was like...already _what_? Seven something?

Helen hustled herself back upstairs. The part of her which had been fine with slouching around the house in a robe, with bed head and morning breath, had been suddenly replaced by something bigger:

The desire to look good for Bernard!

Helen had been thinking of taking a bath- a long, luxurious bath- but that thought flew out the window when she saw it was already half past seven. Instead, she went through her usual routine; a shower followed by running a brush through her hair and over her teeth...then, deviating from the norm, she took about five minutes to agonize over whether to wear any make-up. She finally applied lip gloss and left it at that, and started in on her clothes.

Nothing seemed quite right. _This_ shirt was a little too worn, _that_ skirt flared out weirdly..._those_ socks were adorable, but suddenly didn't seem so hot when the goal was to impress a guy...

The practical part of Helen's brain had only one thought: _when_ had everything in her entire wardrobe stopped being good enough to _wear_? Out of exasperation, and after going through what practically _was_ all of her clothing, Helen finally went with an oldy but a goody: comfortable, but flattering jeans, and a shirt which cinched slightly around the waist, helping to accent her form in all the right places.

Helen finally went downstairs again, attempting to be nonchalant. Then she realized she was trying too hard. Rolling her eyes at herself, she went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, then made o turn toward the kitchen table...

"Good morning!"

"Wuh..!" Helen jumped, her legs somehow propelling her in a bizarre pirouette, to where she faced the speaker.

Meanwhile, the water in her glass went everywhere. She stared sheepishly down at her dripping shirt, then back up again. "Um...hi Bernard."

Bernard had a hand to his hat, his expression a cross between repentant and amused.

"Oh, hey, sorry..." He walked quickly forward, collecting a dish towel, and without hesitation, started pressing it to her shirt, to help soak up the water.

"Er...I've, I've got it, thanks..." Helen cleared her throat, as Bernard handed over the towel, and she took a step away, turning to the side, as she squeezed the liquid out herself. She willed herself not to blush.

"I didn't mean to sneak up on you there..."

She half turned to face him, smiling a little too widely. "No, _no_, I was in my own world, haha..." And in that world, she was becoming more infatuated by the minute with the person standing only feet away. _Oh Lord, help me pull myself together!_

Helen managed to do just that, taking a mental step back. This was _Bernard_, her wonderful, loving, Christmas elf friend who had helped her come to Santa's Workshop to live. He treated her like a kid friend or maybe a little sister, and appeared to be oblivious to the concept of romance. And as such, Helen was _not_ ready to cue him in on how her feelings were changing toward him just yet.

She let out a deep, calming breath, and smiled warmly. "Good morning to you too."

Bernard grinned at that, albeit lopsidedly. "Ready for a fun day with Judy?"

Helen's smile dropped just a little. As he'd implied last night, Bernard obviously wouldn't be taking a vacation too. In fact, his being here now was probably calculated down to the minute, in terms of how much time it would take to get her out of here, and introduce her to Judy.

With that thought in mind, she motioned down to her shirt, which was clinging uncomfortably to her skin. "Just...five minutes with the hair dryer?"

Bernard's gaze went to her shirt, then back up almost immediately. "Right! I'll be right here." He gave an upbeat little nod of reassurance, and once again Helen recognized that look, that _approach_...that said 'I'm talking to a kid' in him. He certainly didn't use it with the elves, even if they _were_ generally two feet shorter than he was.

Helen sighed inwardly, and made her way upstairs. _Most_ guys would've taken a second look at a lady in a wet, clinging shirt.

* * *

Bernard picked up the towel from where Helen had set it, and used it to wipe up a few drops of water from the floor that she hadn't noticed. It was all too easy to slip on a wet floor, after all.

As he crouched, Bernard gave himself a brief scolding, as his mind's eye, crystal clear as it was, lingered on Helen, as she had been just moments before, standing in front of him, her shirt mostly soaked...

Bernard stood up abruptly, embarrassed at himself, and wrung the towel out in the sink. But the _thing_ was, Christmas elves _weren't_ so...erm.

Bernard hadn't seen such a clearly defined female form in a very, _very_ long time. There _was_ Mrs. Claus, he supposed, but she always dressed very conservatively. As a result, Helen's image in his mind was somehow fascinating. Her shape still seemed very right, very natural, but it was so _different_ from his own flat, hard chest.

Bernard shook his head at himself, suddenly overtaken with exasperation toward himself. _She's _female_, genius. Get over it!_

More importantly, Helen was _also_ his ward, in a way. She was new to this place, and relied heavily on him right now. They might technically be married, but given how young she was, as _any_ human was, really, he was more of a guardian to her. A friend. In fact, given how recently her brother passed away, Helen likely thought of him as a sort of surrogate big brother.

And Bernard wasn't going to do anything – even _think_ anything – to make her fear that relationship could change.

* * *

Helen came back downstairs, after making herself presentable again (oh, thank goodness electrical devices functioned there!) and grinned widely at Bernard, who had begun pacing back and forth at some point. As he spotted her, he changed direction to walk her way.

"Okay, I'm all ready! Just don't let me near another glass of water..."

Bernard smiled back. "Nah, you _need_ water. How about I promise not to...scare you again, instead?" There was something odd in the way he said the word 'scare', but it was so subtle, Helen wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it.

She nodded, pretending to be serious for a moment, "Deal," then broke into another grin.

Bernard snorted softy, the lopsided smile Helen knew so well falling into place. "All right, let's get out of here..."

On their way out the door, Bernard reached down for Helen's hand, and swung it back and forth slightly a few times. This time, she joined in, happily exaggerating the motion into a goofy, over the top movement. Sometimes acting like a kid could be fun.

* * *

"Hello, Helen! It's nice to meet you again." Judy gently shook Helen's hand. Like most elves, she looked like a child, and stood a good foot shorter than her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you t...again?" Helen frowned, trying to think back.

Judy smiled understandingly. "We met on your wedding day."

That was right; technically, Helen had met just about everyone that day. Elves had come up in ones and twos to the table where she and Bernard had sat after cake had been served, to give them both a brief congratulatory greeting.

Helen smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid there were so many faces..."

Judy shook her head. "There's no need to apologize. That was a very _big_ day." She smiled and, as with Curtis, Helen was struck by the fact that despite the way Judy looked, you could still tell she was anything but a child. Judy's tone was almost mothering, her demeanor gentle and calm, putting Helen at ease as soon as they had shaken hands.

Bernard, meanwhile, stood nearby. He already had that look in his eyes, like his mind was on the next item on the agenda, and Helen knew he'd be leaving them soon.

As if her thoughts had registered with him, Bernard focused back on them both. "I would stay if I could, but _here's_ where I make my exit...Judy, I'm trusting you to make this day wonderful." He gave Judy that familiar lopsided grin, then turned to Helen. To her surprise, he came forward, giving her a brief hug.

"Have fun today, okay?"

Helen tried to fight back a blush as he stepped back. "I...I will. You too. Have a _good_ day, Bernard." She smiled up at him, feeling shy but joyful, and he nodded to her.

"I'll try my best." Bernard's eyes went to Judy for a moment, then he nodded again. He turned to leave...then stopped abruptly.

"...Oh! Helen." He turned back, just as abruptly, completely focused on her. "Dinner tonight, at seven? Does that sound okay?"

Her eyes widened at the sudden, nonchalant invite. "Sure..."

"Great! I'll pick you up at the house, then." Bernard raised a hand in goodbye to her and Judy, then turned to leave again.

Even when Helen knew his invitation was in no way meant as a romantic date, her heart still picked up a little, as she watched Bernard's retreating back.

Judy picked up the conversation again with a smile. "So, now that we know what the _highlight_ of your day will be, what would you like to do for now?"

Helen smiled wryly at that. "Well..." as if reminding her of its existence, her stomach grumbled as she paused to think. She huffed, grinning. "Actually, I'm _really_ hungry. Can we get something to eat? After _that_, I'm putting myself in your hands." She made a gesture with both hands, as if saying 'I'm all yours'.

* * *

They breakfasted inside one of the Workshop's kitchens, and while Helen ate, Judy went about making some kind of hot drink, putting it in two thermoses, to bring with them. After breakfast, Judy led Helen out of the Workshop's double doors, on a walk to parts unknown.

After a few minutes, Judy handed Helen a thermos. It was fairly brisk weather, not _too_ cold, but still cool enough to warrant a sweater, which Helen hadn't thought to bring. Helen opened the thermos, and took in the lovely scent of hot cocoa.

Judy nodded to Helen's drink, as she unscrewed her own thermos. "My specialty."

Helen took a careful sip; it was piping hot. Then she took a deep breath, as if noticing, for the first time, how clean the air was here. She could feel her body let go of tension she hadn't been aware was there, making her feel relaxed, yet simultaneously more energized.

Helen took another deep breath, this time placing her nose above the wafting scent of cocoa. "This is _wonderful_. It's like...some kind of magic."

Judy smiled up at her, taking a sip herself. "Well. Maybe a _little_ like magic."

They walked in silence for a few moments, both enjoying the cocoa, but Helen couldn't help wondering if Judy's comment was serious or not.

"So...it really _does_ have magic?"

Judy _hmm'd_ thoughtfully. "It's not _proper_ magic. I just put love and joy into making it, and you receive those things when you drink it. But everyone can do that, Helen, not just elves. We've just had a lot more practice at it."

Helen thought about that for a moment. "...are you sure there isn't any, you know, _real_ magic?"

Judy laughed at that. "You're becoming more receptive. Santa didn't notice anything that unusual, when he drank it the first time."

Helen tilted her head, to look into her thermos curiously. "Receptive?"

"If...I put emotional _energy_ into something, like making cocoa, then another elf will feel that energy there. That energy is something humans, especially grown ups, aren't consciously aware of. But it still has an effect." Judy smiled softly. "Everything that comes from the Workshop is filled with love."

Helen stared down at her cocoa, as if trying to _see_ the love there, then shook her head. "Santa really didn't notice anything special?"

Judy grinned slightly. "Well, he thought it tasted good." Her grin fell away, replaced by a thoughtful look. "When he first arrived, he had all his..._barriers_ up. He didn't want to believe in anything he was seeing. Now, he notices." She looked up to catch Helen's eye. "In a year from now, you'll have to tell me what you think of my cocoa again. I bet it will be even better." Judy smiled at her.

Helen felt strangely touched. Maybe it was the talk about love...but Judy really _did_ seem to exude it. Just being near her lightened Helen's mood, and made her feel..._special_, almost.

But then, when someone loved you, that meant you were special to them, right?

* * *

"Balobalubalubalubaa!" Helen glanced sideways at Judy, who gladly translated Comet's gibberish noises.

"He says he's happy to meet you..."

"BoluoBAba!"

"And that you smell nice." Judy smilingly added. "Go ahead, say hello. He understands you."

Judy had led Helen (to her delight) to the reindeer stables. The entry for the stables was built into the side of a huge hill, with double doors nearly as tall as the Workshop's were, and cut out of rock. Inside, it looked like a cross between a fancy barn and a hangar, complete with a landing strip. Helen and Judy appeared to be the only two people around at the moment, unless you counted the reindeer.

Helen smiled tentatively at Comet, awed at the fact that reindeer apparently _were_ smart enough to play reindeer games and even make fun of each other.

"Hi, Comet. It's..an honor to _meet_ you." Helen broke into a cross between a grin and a guffaw, as Comet nodded his head, briefly closing his eyes, in a clear acknowledgement of her words.

"Comet helps with training the younger reindeer He's an old hand when it comes to the Christmas trek each year."

After they finished greeting Comet, they wandered along, Judy nodding to and greeting different reindeer as they went, apparently able to distinguish between them in a way Helen could not.

With a jolt, Helen remembered something Bernard had told her, back home.

"Judy, is there a reindeer named Chet here?"

Judy smiled, a thoughtful look on her face. "Oh, yes. _That's_ right...Bernard had quite an adventure with Chet this Christmas." She grinned. "But instead of coming home with _him_, he brought you back instead."

Helen glanced down, clearing her throat, and smiled awkwardly. "Yeah..."

Judy went on. "It's very romantic. I'm happy he's found someone, Helen."

Helen laughed, embarrassed, and put a hand to the back of her head, unconsciously mimicking one of Bernard's nervous habits. "Yes, I'm...I'm happy he found me too." And she really _was_. Being here took her mind away from the depression she'd been sinking into, after the death of her brother. Being here was so much better than anywhere else she could imagine being right now.

Judy's look had become more intense, somehow, and Helen sensed that things were about to take an awkward turn.

"Helen...I was wondering something."

Helen stared back, nervous. "Yes?"

"I noticed that, on your wedding day, you both wore nice clothing, but...nothing very _special_, if you don't mind my saying?"

"Oh..." Helen bit her lip, floundering a little, and fell back to what she had told someone else earlier that week. "Well, Bernard...he's, you know. Things were a little _spontaneous_. I think he finally decided it was now or never, after..." She cleared her throat, and glanced sideways. "After bumping his head. So, he proposed, and when I said _yes_, it was kind of...full speed ahead." She smiled apologetically, finally meeting Judy's eyes again.

Judy smiled back, and her look, to Helen's surprise, held pity. "Oh, Helen..." She paused, as if rethinking things, and shook her head, grinning. "That _Bernard_." She crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes. Helen got the impression Judy had held back from criticizing her "husband."

Judy went on, that intense gleam back in her eyes. "I...had a thought, about how we could spend the rest of the day. If you want."

Helen wasn't sure where this was going any more, and nodded for her to continue.

"Elves have a very traditional way of dressing, for their weddings..." Judy tilted her head to the side slightly, as if considering Helen at a different angle. "I thought you might like to get a traditional wedding dress made, and...I could help you prepare like we normally would if it was your wedding, for your date tonight? I know it's a few weeks late...but it could be a sort of honeymoon treat?"

"I..." Helen forced a smile, feeling trapped. She ought to be, as a new bride, _overjoyed_ at this suggestion. Instead, she felt weirdly nervous at the thought of Bernard seeing her that way. She shook her head, forcefully, knowing it was best to play the role of newly-wed, and made herself respond. "That's..._thank_ you. I mean...sure! That sounds wonderful."

Judy didn't buy it, however. "Are you sure? We can do something else, if you don't want to? Your wedding was still very nice..."

Helen realized how much of her thoughts had shown, and threw herself into it. "_No_, no! That's so sweet of you, and you're right. It _was_ rushed. And...I'm in your hands today, remember?" She grinned.

That was all Judy needed to finally let her exuberance show. She actually hopped up and down a few times, and clapped her hands. "Oh...this is going to be so _fun_, Helen!"

* * *

At some point in the late afternoon, Bernard was waylaid by a messenger elf, with an unexpected personal delivery. He glanced at it to see, to his surprise, that it was from his tailor. Let's see...shirts, pants, hats, undergarments, shoes, over garments...nope, he was covered for the moment. So what could this be?

Thankfully, there was a note attached, explaining:

"Dear Bernard,

Please wear this for your date tonight."

Judy"

Well, that was simple enough.

Then he did a double take. Date? What was she _talking_...oh. Because he was married, and all. Right. Finally, curiosity got the better of him and, against his better judgement, he took a moment to retreat to a more secluded part of the Workshop. Soon, Bernard was looking at a beautifully made groom's suit, in blues and greens and whites, complete with a matching hat and shoes. For several seconds, he just stared.

Then he couldn't help wondering what Judy was _up_ to with Helen, right then.

* * *

The first place they went was to a tailor. Helen was measured every which way she could be, then Judy left instructions for the tailor, wrote a quick note, which she handed to him, and they were off.

Apparently, even elves had spas, or something similar, and they tended to be included in pre-wedding traditions here, too, because that's where they went next. Helen spent about an hour just relaxing in a warm, humid room, which smelled lovely and had various bowls of scented water and oils set out. Judy didn't hesitate, once they were inside, to instruct Helen to strip down, leaving her in only undies and bra, while Judy herself used a soft, warm cloth to rub different wonderful smelling things into her skin.

Helen had never been to a spa, or gotten a massage, or anything else along those lines, and was surprised when, at some point during the pseudo-massage, she found herself quietly crying. Judy continued on unperturbed, respecting her privacy. Later, when they were leaving the spa, Helen finally explained that her brother had passed away only a month and a half back, and she was still grieving.

Judy had nodded in understanding. "Massage will often bring out emotions you need to express. It can be very cleansing." Then she had offered her condolences, and gave her a hug. Judy didn't say anything for a minute or two, as they continued on their walk to the next mystery destination, giving Helen time to say more if she wished. When Helen didn't say more, Judy picked up the conversation again, taking it in a completely different direction.

Helen was grateful. She didn't want to dwell on her brother's death.

Judy took her to a tiny elf named Tanya, who specialized in foot and hand care. Helen was treated to another massage of sorts, focused entirely on her hands and feet, and along the way her nails (all twenty of them) were trimmed and shaped, and something, which lacked the strong smell of nail polish, was applied to them, giving them a sheen like mother of pearl. Then, for about an hour, Tanya drew on her, for lack of a better term.

She drew beautiful, delicate patterns on her wrists and ankles, in striking blues and greens. Judy explained that they symbolized health, happiness, good fortune, strength, faith, and so on. They were lovely, and this process, more than anything else, finally allowed Helen to relax. Her marriage to Bernard might only be pretend, in a sense...but this was so very nice. Helen had never been dolled up, and something in her was soaking in the loving care everyone was showing her.

Next, they returned to the tailor for a fitting. Helen was amazed at how quickly he had worked, and once the dress was on, she felt briefly overwhelmed, to the point that she was holding back tears. The effort put forth, the beauty, was breath taking, and part of her couldn't reconcile the fact that this was truly all for her. She had wiped carefully at the corners of her eyes, determined not to let anything get on the lovely material. After the tailor made a few notes, it was off with the dress again, so that he could make it just perfect.

After leaving the tailor's, they went to an elvish beautician. Because, as far as Helen could tell, that was what Claire was. She had powders and tiny tools for applying all sorts of fantastic and striking colors to someone's eyes, lips, and every other contour of the face.

It was the first time, once Helen was allowed to look in the mirror, that she found herself thinking she didn't look like a clown. The makeup was there; her lips were a much dark shade than usual, her eyes painted with colors to match her dress, and a subtle rouge was on her cheek bones. But it looked like it was _part_ of her, instead of something sitting on top of her face, to hide her. Helen's hair was next, and somehow Claire gave it volume and lift, and all those things people tried for but mostly failed at in the human world.

By the end of it all, when she was back home again, having just changed, very carefully, back into her now perfectly tailored wedding dress, with Judy standing by her side, beaming, Helen felt like a real life Cinderella. She gave Judy a warm, careful hug, and waved goodbye as she left. It was only ten minutes until seven, and Helen _almost_ expected, at this point, for someone to come to the door and announce that her carriage awaited outside.

Helen sat carefully on the couch in the front living room, heart beating a little too rapidly. She had never felt so beautiful, and if Bernard was ever going to notice her, it seemed like this was the opportune moment.

* * *

Bernard let himself in the front door of his home at precisely seven o'clock that evening. An instant later, he did a double take, then shrugged - he'd forgotten to knock, darn it. Then he frowned, his mood turning even more sour than it already was. Forgetting to knock on his _own_ front door? Well who could blame him!

None the less, Bernard called out, to announce himself. "Helen!" He stepped forward, only to see her a dozen feet away, standing up from where she sat on the couch.

"I'm here." Helen smiled happily at him.

Bernard stopped where he stood, and stared. He couldn't help it. Judy had _really_ gone all out. Helen looked like a traditional elvish bride, from head to toe. The only give away- the curved tops of her ears- were cleverly hidden under her carefully arranged hair. The dress was beautiful, and clearly a match to his own ensemble.

Bernard hadn't changed, despite Judy's note. Instead, the wedding suit had been wrapped up again, and was currently tucked under his arm.

After a long moment, Bernard finally tore his eyes away from Helen, and cast them down. He felt mild shock at her appearance...and guilt, with just a little anger at himself mixed in. He hadn't meant for this evening to get complicated! But rather than being a low key, friendly dinner, Judy had unknowingly transformed it into a spectacle. Helen, at least, seemed happy enough. But then, she didn't fully grasp what it was, to go out wearing that clothing.

Helen drooped, feeling disappointed. Bernard's reaction appeared to be mild aggravation, a far cry from what she had hoped for. She mustered her courage, however, putting a smile back on her face, and got his attention again.

"Well, what do you think?" She slowly spun once in place, to show off her entire ensemble.

When she stopped spinning, he was frowning outright. "I owe you an apology, Helen. I didn't realize Judy would suggest doing _this_." He waved one hand in a jerky motion toward her appearance, and shrugged.

Helen flinched slightly at the gesture, and tried not to feel crushed. She bit her lower lip, and told herself firmly that Bernard _wasn't_ commenting on her, on how she looked. He was reacting to the wedding dress, was all.

"Well...she _does_ think we're actually married." Helen forced herself to grin, determined to lighten the mood. "I mean, which we _are_. But, um...not like that." She laughed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, and stared down at her shoes.

Bernard stared at Helen for a moment, really looking at her, instead of the ensemble. She looked so uncertain; _embarrassed_, really. And he couldn't blame her.

His eyes wandered from her, as his mood turning downright surly. He _didn't_ want to put that outfit on, and he certainly did _not_ want to go _out_ in it. In fact, he didn't like _any_ of this one bit! Why had Judy done _this_, of all things?

Bernard crossed his arms, trying to understand why this made him so upset. He and Helen _weren't_ a couple...and yet they _were_ married. But that didn't mean people had to keep throwing it in their faces! Not that Judy _knew_ she was doing that...but it didn't change the result! It made him fell...guilty.

_That_ was what it was. He felt guilty, and that just made him angrier; at himself _and_ at Judy, for setting Helen _up_ like this...

Helen finally looked up again, nervous at Bernard's silence. She was greeted by an angry stare, and actually took a half step back, caught off guard by the intensity there. Something in her reacted strongly to that look, as if, inwardly, she had been slapped. She lowered her arms, all eagerness, all expectations finally eradicated.

Helen turned around, and went into the kitchen, mouth held in a hard line to stop her lower lip from wobbling, as she decided a little distance was all she could do for herself just then. She didn't know what was going on in his head, but whatever it was...he could keep it to _himself_, thank you very much. That _look_ said enough!

She filled the tea kettle with water, and set it on the stove. By the time she was reaching for a mug from the cabinet, she became aware of Bernard's presence in the kitchen. She didn't turn around, still trying to get herself under control.

"Helen...I'm sorry. That look _wasn't_ aimed at you. I was staring _through_ you."

Helen struggled not to lose her temper for a moment._ Oh, well that makes everything all right, then, since you were staring _through_ me and all! _ She didn't respond, pretending instead to mull over which mug she wanted, for several long moments.

Then with a sigh, she finally turned, and crossed her arms. Her voice came out sounding hurt.

"What's going on, Bernard? Is something wrong at the Workshop? Is it..._bad_ that I'm dressed like this?"

Bernard put a hand to the back of his head, and she was slightly mollified to see that his earlier anger seemed to be replaced with remorse. "_No_, no, but...well, _yes_." He pulled a face. "Look. We're _married_, right? And Judy did the whole nine yards, getting you prepared, just like it was your wedding day. So...the _tailor_ knows. The _hair_ dresser. The make-up artist. The person who drew _those_," he gestured to the intricate marks on her wrists, "knows. And _Judy_, of course. As a _result_," he shrugged, looking strangely apologetic, "tonight just became a lot more than a casual dinner between friends. I'd honestly prefer to stay in, but if we don't go out, a lot of people will wonder _why_."

Helen stared at him incredulously. Did he _really_ find this to be such a terrible ordeal? "So, it might not be _ideal_, but...let's just go out and pretend to be a real couple! What's so _hard_ about that?"

Bernard looked puzzled. "But we're _not_ a real couple. And us being together in public gives everyone more opportunity to notice that. Elves are...you know we're all mildly _telepathic_, right?"

Helen's eyes widened, and she uncrossed her arms slightly. The edge left her voice, replaced with quiet shock. "No. I _didn't_ know that."

She hastily turned back around, and started rummaging through the different kinds of tea, suddenly afraid to look him in the eye. Did that mean...Bernard _knew_ she was crushing on him? Was _this_ his way to tell her he wasn't interested?

As she chose her tea, Helen let out a huff of air, trying to hold in how upset she was feeling. She spoke in a controlled, quiet way, but she couldn't keep the distress from her voice. "_How_ would I know that, Bernard, if someone didn't tell me?"

Bernard could hardly miss the way she lingered on the word "someone". It had been him; _he_ had failed to tell her.

If he was going to respond, though, Helen would never know, as the tea kettle started to whistle. Helen went about pouring water into her waiting mug, grateful for the interruption, and started her tea steeping. She wiped surreptitiously at her face, humiliated as a tear glided down her cheek. She smiled sadly, amazed at how the night was turning out, and finally spoke again.

"You know...all I wanted was for you to tell me I looked _nice_." She shook her head, finally facing him fully again, her temper getting the best of her. "We don't _have_ to go out, okay? And so _what_ if people wonder? I could care _less_."

Helen bit her lip, to stop it from quivering, and made to walk past him, intent on heading upstairs and avoiding him the rest of the night. And maybe crying her eyes out.

Bernard put up his hands, and stepped sideways to block her path. "Helen." His tone was gentle and apologetic. She looked up again, reluctantly, to see that his face mirrored his voice. He tilted his head a little to the side, imploringly. "I walked in here, in a bad mood, and I'm not even _upset_ with you. My behavior was _completely_ uncalled for. You _do_ look nice. You look _lovely_, in fact. And I'm sorry for being..." he shook his head at himself, then found a word, raising his eyebrows as he said it, "a _grump_."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Bernard, whether he knew it or not, was giving her puppy dog eyes, but Helen was finding it hard not to feel hurt. She didn't understand _why_ he'd said what he said, _why_ he had been upset.

Feeling like a whiny kid, she finally voiced her thoughts. "_Why_ is it such a big deal, though?" She stared up at him imploringly. "I mean...if we go out or stay in? And what we wear? This is Santa's _Workshop_, Bernard!" She shook her head wonderingly, feeling lost.

Bernard just stared back at her for several seconds, looking strangely trapped, mouth slightly open. Then he sighed. "Helen...you're right." He smiled softly at her. "They're amazing people. But..." he tilted his head, frowning as he neared a subject that, somehow in these last two weeks, he'd never managed to bring up. Even though he'd _told_ himself he would, and should. And yet, he _still_ found himself trying to avoid it, even now.

"I don't want to...poke a _hole_ in our façade." He studied her face; her confused, beautifully made up face. She really _did_ look lovely, even with such a sad look on her face.

Helen frowned, feeling completely lost, and finally voiced the obvious. "But _why_? If it's causing such stress, then maybe we should just..._explain_?" She hadn't wanted to suggest that. She had just begun to really enjoy this; pretending they were a couple. She had hoped it would lead to a smooth transition to being a real couple, but honesty was best, right? And they _weren't_ a couple right now. "You were helping me find a way to _be_ here. _That's_ not a bad thing?" She looked at him intently, trying to fathom what was going on behind those dark brown eyes.

Bernard finally shrugged his shoulders, feeling defeated. "Helen...I." To Helen's surprise, she saw guilt appear on his face. He glanced sideways, brow furrowed, then caught her gaze again. "I should've explained before. Come on." He gestured toward the kitchen table. "Why don't we sit?" He smiled, but it was strained.

Helen started forward, then paused and, with a growing sense of trepidation, retrieved her tea. This sounded like a conversation where a warm, soothing cup of tea might be _called_ for.

After they both sat, Bernard immediately began fiddling, his hands making hyper little movements on the table top. He frowned down at them after a moment, and stopped the motion. Then he cleared his throat.

"So. It's not, I mean...you may have _guessed_, to be _honest_."

Helen looked down into her mug of tea, as if it held the strength to resist making a grumpy retort. She sighed, and consciously tried to let the aggravation she felt leave along with the air in her lungs. Then she took a long, soothing breath in.

"Well, tell me what it is, and then I'll tell you if I guessed." She managed a smile, that affection she had for him finally rising to the surface again. He was clearly nervous, but whatever he hadn't told her just _couldn't_ be that bad! Not at Santa's Workshop, of all places.

"Well, the thing _is._..." He gave her a nervous look, then went on, as if diving into the deep end. "Marriage _isn't_ supposed to be used as a tool to _bring_ people here. And using it that way, when we're _not_ a couple, that's...never actually been _done_ before. Because, no one would..._do_ that. Marriages are _deeply_ respected. Are you following?"

Helen raised her eyebrows, and he went on, shaking his head at himself at having asked that.

"And so, _another_ thing about us is...elves don't divorce. I mean, it's not even a word in our _vocabularies_, it's _never_ happened. And, well...we never _will_." He bowed his head as he spoke, looking up at her as if bracing himself for her reaction.

Helen sat, thinking. Then she took a sip of tea, and thought some more. "So you're telling me that...this is permanent. Our marriage. I'd have to fake my death to leave, or something. And then, obviously, I wouldn't ever have the option to come _back_."

Bernard stared at her hard for a moment, frowning quizzically, as if he'd never had that thought before. "I _guess_ that might work?"

Helen couldn't stop herself from laughing at his reaction, and rolled her eyes. "I guess...in a way, I'm not surprised?" She stared into space, thinking back two weeks, then shrugged." You _did_ kind of insist that I live here with you, and you asked me to pretend we were a real couple..." Part of her knew she ought to have a bigger reaction than this, and she _might_ have had, just a few days back.

But now, she was in the process of falling in love with the dense Head Elf, and the thought of being stuck with him...it really didn't bug her much at the moment.

None the less, she reached across the table and flicked the back of his hand pretty hard with one of her fingers. He reflexively withdrew, rubbing the spot with his other hand, still looking guilty.

"There. That's for not telling me before that marriage would mean I'd be stuck with you forever." She grinned, and he finally started to relax a little. Having said it like that, though, Helen couldn't help feel a subtle fear touch her thoughts. Forever was a long time. A _lot_ could change.

As if wanting to contribute to the conversation, once again, Helen's stomach let out a long, loud grumbling noise. She could feel herself blush slightly at the noise, and the sense of foreboding she'd started to feel went away, replaced by embarrassment. Apparently her stomach had a _theme_ going today.

Bernard broke into a grin, for the first time that night, tension he'd clearly been keeping inside for some time now finally dropping away. "Say, Helen? I don't know _why_ I didn't think of this earlier, but how about _this_: we go _get_ food to bring back? I can wear my wedding outfit, so people see us for a few minutes, all decked out. Our cover won't be blown, and we can relax and eat _here_, in peace. What do you think?"

Helen, for once, was the one to smile lopsidedly. She shook her head. "That sounds good."

Bernard wasted no time, and immediately stood up, heading toward the stairs to change.

While she waited, Helen couldn't help feeling exasperation well up inside. Her fear from earlier, that Bernard had recognized her feelings for him and was telling her off, was put to rest, at least. Telepathy must've been one of his weak points, because he was clearly _oblivious_ to how she felt. _Especially_ since he'd been fearing this conversation so much!

But, if she had needed a _reason_ to fall in love with Bernard, she couldn't think of a better one than being stuck with him literally forever.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, I don't know...I hope this was enjoyable to read? I'd appreciate it if you could take a moment to review. Thanks!


	7. Magic and a Little Ice

Author's Note: First: thanks so much for the reviews I've gotten! I really (_really_ really!) appreciate it! ^_^ Also, this chapter was getting a tad long, so I split it in two. Thus it's a little short, now, lol, but the next update will be relatively quick. Hope you enjoy! (Um, I actually wrote the beginning to this chapter last, so...I apologize if it's a bit rough!)

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Magic and a Little Ice**

* * *

Bernard, in retrospect, had been right.

Even for the short time they were out together in their traditional wedding garb, they drew a sizable crowd. Unsurprisingly, weddings at the North Pole were decided on quite a while before the wedding day itself, giving plenty of time – _years_, even - for preparations. This meant that the last time an elvish couple _hadn't_ been married in traditional dress was probably...never. Thus, seeing their Head Elf and his wife dressed this way, even belatedly, served as a huge nod to their traditions and expectations.

Judy had been pretty smart.

After returning home with their dinner, Bernard dove into a commentary on elvish magic. After offhandedly mentioning the fact that everyone here was telepathic, it had finally occurred to him, given Helen's shocked reaction, that he _really_ needed to fill her in on this stuff.

Telepathy came up again, first. In hearing him talk about it, Helen began to understand _how_ it was he hadn't guessed her feelings.

For one, she'd been right: it _wasn't_ a forte of his. Bernard had to be in the same room, for one, and eye contact was extremely helpful. But more importantly, telepathy was the ability to project your speech mentally, and receive another person's thoughts the same way. It was like, as Bernard put it, "having a conversation without using your vocal chords". At the moment, Bernard could try to communicate that way with Helen all day, but right now she wouldn't "hear" him. Given time, he promised that would change.

Rather than telepathy, _empathy,_ the next ability Bernard mentioned, which was also universal in elves, gave Helen cause to worry.

Empathy was the ability to _feel_ what someone else felt. It was amplified by touch, particularly with Bernard. Some elves could tune into what you felt by simply being in the same room, or through line of sight, but not him. Holding a hand, or best of all, pressing foreheads together, was what it took to really "get inside" someone's head, as Bernard put it. Again, it wasn't a forte of his.

"Hey...that night after dinner with Santa and his wife..." Helen crossed her arms, eyes a little wide. When she had been crying, he had _done_ that. Pressed his forehead against hers.

Bernard looked sheepish, like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. His hand went to the back of his head, in that nervous gesture of his.

"You...caught me." He looked truly regretful for a moment, and his eyes dropped to her hands, as if contemplating reaching out toward her, but then nixing the idea.

Helen wasn't able to hide her blush- or stop the feeling of mortification. He had been in her _head_! There was a pregnant pause, in which Helen wondered, again, if her cover had been blown already. Bernard _had_ been almost flirtatious that night, what with teleporting her upstairs, and the pillow fight...in a ten-year-old-boy kind of way.

"I didn't hear thoughts, Helen. Just feelings. Mostly, I got...a _snapshot_, is how you could put it, I guess. Of you." Bernard smiled then; a genuine, warm, full fledged smile, which was rare for him.

Helen swallowed, hard, her eyes widening in an unspoken question. But Bernard didn't understand what was on her mind. She could see it in his eyes, and in his answer.

"You're lovely, Helen. There was nothing to be ashamed of." His smile faded. "I..._should_ apologize, though." His look turned briefly grumpy. "Well...of _course!_ I mean, I _clearly_ took liberties I shouldn't have." The grumpy look, obviously aimed at himself, was replaced with remorse. "...I'm sorry, Helen."

Bernard _still_ seemed oblivious to her crush, and at that point, the night seemed already full of his apologies, so Helen just rolled her eyes at him. She let it go. Not that she wouldn't mull over it more, on her own.

Bernard went back to describing elvish magic. Above and beyond telepathy and empathy, in a big way, were the abilities which allowed an elf to _influence_ others. Some elves- because you had to take the time to learn how- could hypnotize someone, and make them do something, or _forget_ something. A human who saw something they weren't supposed to see would, _sometimes_, be hypnotised to forget it.

Helen couldn't help wonder at that. If things had been different, if she hadn't married Bernard...would she remember him at all? Or would she be living her life, having been made to forget they'd ever met? It was the first time she felt uncertain about Santa's Workshop, because it seemed so awful...having one's memory tampered with. For _whatever_ reason.

Bernard, seeing the mild shock on her face, had been quick to explain that, in most cases, it simply wasn't necessary. People were good at explaining things away; _anything_ could be rationalized, even the most fantastical, most inexplicable occurrences.

Meanwhile, hypnotism didn't really work on other elves, unless they actively let it happen. So, aside from its application in the outside world, it was rarely used at all, and when it _was_, it was for therapy, or sometimes as a tool- for getting oneself up in the morning, for instance.

Speaking of talents which didn't get much use: imposition, or the ability to impose one's own thoughts or feelings on another person, was at the top of the list. Ironically, Bernard _had_ used his own ability in that regard, when he had willed Helen to fall asleep on the first night they met- and she promptly _had_. Those talents didn't work as well on fellow elves, either, however.

The more Bernard talked about these things, the more Helen realized that emotions and thoughts, such as the love Judy could imbue into hot cocoa, were almost like a form of energy. An energy that elves knew how to actively control. It was a strange concept, and difficult to really grasp.

The strangest talent however, by _far_, was something physical. Every elf could do it, but only with a lot of practice. Bernard called it _slipping_. They could go right _through_ a wall, like a ghost. Bernard explained that this talent was one reason there weren't many locks to be found at Santa's Workshop; there wasn't much _point_. Helen couldn't begin to imagine walking through a wall, but Bernard assured her that, someday, she would know exactly what it was like first hand.

There were also talents that only occasionally surfaced. Teleportation was an ability every Head Elf quickly developed, for instance, but it was rare in others. Also, some elves had the ability to predict the future somewhat. The list went on.

Bernard promised, while they talked, that he would help Helen develop her own talents, by practising, as they started to surface in her.

Helen couldn't stop a feeling of foreboding at that. When it came time to practice empathy with him, it would become _impossible_ for her feelings to remain hidden. Given Bernard's strange attitude about their whole marriage, an attitude she couldn't even _define_ right now, Helen prayed the day was far away that her talents surfaced.

* * *

The next few weeks went a little better for Helen. That physical stamina mentioned in _Most Unusual Elves_ was finally starting to show up. The long days, early mornings...they were becoming manageable. And it didn't hurt that Bernard was giving her a day off, once a week. He had concluded that she needed breathing time, a few months to settle in, before getting into full swing at the Workshop, as a proper elf. Judy, if she wanted company, always seemed to be available on that day, as well.

Bernard was also making an effort to eat dinner with Helen once a week, on her day off. At seven o'clock, for three weeks now, he never failed to show up at home to spend the evening with her, eating and talking. Helen loved that time, even if she had pulled back quite a lot, afraid that she would broadcast her feelings to him somehow. She had loved to get hugs, and quick, affectionate touches; the brush of his hand over hers. But after learning about telepathy and empathy, Helen couldn't help withdraw a little, hesitating at the thought of her emotions transmitting to him through that physical connection.

If Bernard noticed her sudden hesitance, he hadn't said anything.

Another change Helen had made was to get _herself_ up in the morning, rather than waiting for Bernard's wake up call. She had hoped that this would give her a few more minutes with him over breakfast, and had been right. She would even help make breakfast with him sometimes, and at moments like that, she could almost believe their marriage was real. She could _almost_ see what it could be like, if she were allowed to let this shy crush blossom into love for Bernard, and if he loved her back the same way.

Who knew alarm clocks were so darn _useful_?

"What's that serious look on your face all about?" Bernard grinned down at her, as he set both of their breakfast plates down at the kitchen table, and took a seat to join her.

"Oh, just random things." Helen smiled, as they began to eat. She could hardly tell him her thoughts orbited around _him_.

_Had_ she been looking serious, though? Her thoughts seemed to oblige by taking a more serious turn right then.

Helen still thought about her brother frequently, and they went to him again now. Andrew had been young, healthy. His death had been so unexpected that it sometimes felt like a nightmare she ought to wake from any moment. Meeting Bernard and coming to the Workshop actually helped encourage that fantasy. This place was outside reality; outside anything she had truly believed could exist. Death _ought_ to be a dream, in a place like Santa's Workshop.

"Bernard, do elves ever die?" Helen made a face, embarrassed right after asking such a question. She had spoken her mind, without thinking.

Bernard looked at her, a smile still in his eyes. "Well...all things have a cycle, you know. Seasons. So, yeah, we pass on. Our...transitions are much more peaceful, though. You could say we...age _really_ gracefully."

He quirked his mouth in a thoughtful half-smile, eyes wandering away from her a little. "I knew an elf who passed only shortly after I came to the Workshop, actually. I'll never forget how _astonished_ I was when he did. He stood straight and carried himself well until the day he died, and it was like he...well, he _stumbled_ while he was walking to work one day, and someone caught him."

Bernard had a far away look, as if picturing that old elf as he spoke. "I was nearby and jogged over to help. But when I got there, he just looked up at us, and smiled, and then...just _relaxed_. He was...gone." Bernard looked at Helen then, and it seemed as if part of him was _still_ astonished. Helen got the feeling that the passing of that old elf was a very powerful memory for Bernard.

Bernard's eyes had turned calm, introspective. "I think it's our intuition. It..._grows_ with us, as we age. By the time death comes around knocking, we go to him with open arms. No fear."

Helen had to look away. His answer to her question had been so much more than she had expected. It seemed so personal; _private_, in a way.

And it made Helen think of her own encounters with death even more. She supposed she was lucky; she hadn't directly witnessed her parents' passing, or her brother's. She couldn't pretend it had been peaceful, though. Both had been sudden, violent. Maybe all she could hope for was a look of _surprise_, before any pain had had a chance to register...

Helen stared hard at the table for a long moment, then pushed back her chair. "I'm sorry." She smiled a wobbly smile, excusing herself with a nod, and walked a dozen or so feet away, to look out a window in the back sitting room. She let herself cry, getting it out of her system, as she noticed how beautiful the view was. Everything here was that way; well ordered, lovely, peaceful. Well...not _always_ peaceful, maybe.

Gentle arms circled around her, and Helen let herself react, impulsively turning to let Bernard hold her close. She shuddered, tears running down her face. She spoke, her voice nearly a whisper, into his chest.

"_I don't understand...I don't understand this world, Bernard.._."

Bernard hugged her close, resting his chin gently on the top of her head. He should've known she would react like this. She could hardly help thinking of...the deaths she had survived already, in her own short life.

"I...I didn't mean to make you cry, Helen." Bernard sighed softly. She shook her head, and he knew she was trying to let him know she didn't blame him. He rubbed her back gently, and knew that there wasn't much else he could really do. There were some things you simply couldn't rush, and this was one of them. Grief had to run its course.

After a few minutes, she calmed down again, and Bernard gently let her go, in order to walk over to the kitchen table for a napkin. He returned, and held it out to her with a gentle half-smile. She took it, and blew her nose with it. Her eyes fell to a wet spot on his shirt. "Sorry. Thanks." She smiled weakly, her gaze meeting his again.

Bernard didn't know how to explain it, but it felt like his heart did a little flip-flop, as he met her eyes. She looked at him as if he were her life line. There was something there so frank, a guileless look filled with gratitude, and pain, and love. He realized that he really did care deeply for Helen, and it amazed him a little bit. He had only known her perhaps a month now, but she made him want to hold her, to protect her from the world. He wanted to be a pillar for her, always there to lean on.

Suddenly a little embarrassed at himself, he snorted gently, that familiar lopsided grin falling into place, to cover it. "_Any_ time, Helen. Like I said."

Taking an unspoken cue, Bernard and Helen both moved back to the kitchen table, sitting down again. Helen let out a gentle, embarrassed laugh. "What a way to start breakfast!"

Bernard smiled, and took a big spoonful of hot cereal in an exaggerated motion, holding it up as if toasting her. Helen copied him a moment later, laughing a little, and together they got started on breakfast again.

Before long the conversation got going again, Bernard falling easily into talk about the Workshop's various activities.

* * *

They were a few minutes late in heading out to the Workshop, which, although unusual, hardly warranted the messenger who came speeding toward them as they walked. The elf was looking slightly frantic, one hand clenching his hat to his head to keep it in place.

Helen could feel the shift in Bernard's mood as soon as they spotted the elf sprinting toward them. He straightened up slightly, standing a little taller, and stood just a little further apart from her, as if ready to spring into action.

Bernard didn't wait for the elf to speak, calling out before he stopped in front of them.

"Eddie! What's going on?" When the elf- Eddie, apparently- stood for a moment, struggling to catch his breath, Bernard rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Breath later!"

Eddie gasped a few more times. "Fire...caught...teddy bears up in flame..."

Bernard scowled. "_Right_." The next instant he was gone. He had teleported away, leaving the messenger elf and Helen staring at each other.

They both hurried back to the workshop together at a light jog. With Bernard having been alerted, Eddie had relaxed his pace a lot. Helen took it as a sign of confidence that whatever was wrong would now be set right.

* * *

As they passed through the Workshop's huge entryway, Eddie turned to look up at Helen.

"It's been a pleasure! I only wish the circumstances had been better!" He tipped his hat, smiling warmly, then slipped off, weaving his way through elves standing in groups in the huge auditorium-sized space that comprised the workshop's ground floor.

Knowing she would probably add to the chaos if anything, Helen stayed near the entrance, toward the outskirts of the crowd. She listened quietly to what comments she could pick up around her. There was an acrid smell permeating the air, and the ceiling, far above, was partially obscured by a cloud of dark orange-ish smoke. There wasn't any visible flame to be seen, although she could hear yelling from upstairs...

Oh. That was _Bernard_ yelling. Helen crossed her arms, focusing in on an upstairs balcony where the distant voice came from; it was also the only place where people still scurried to and fro. Based on the murmurs around her, the stuffed plush toys section of the Workshop had gone up in flames...

"Well, this _is_ odd." A voice, cutting through the noise around her, brought Helen's thoughts to an abrupt halt. "I'd say you were a relative of Santa's, but he's not _here_ right now, which makes your presence a little..._curious_?"

Helen turned to see a very strange man standing just a few feet away. He mostly faced the source of the chaos, with only his head turned slightly her way, giving her a sideways look. His posture was nonchalant, with his arms crossed, and the self satisfied grin on his face was a sharp contrast to the looks of concern everyone else wore.

He turned to face her more fully, pointing briefly but very clearly at her left ear. "You're human." He raised an eyebrow, a condescending look on his face, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Helen was taken aback by his rudeness, and just stood, mouth slightly open, not sure how to respond. He looked like someone had taken a water hose, doused him, then dropped him in a blizzard. He was the most bizarre looking person she'd ever seen. And strangely, the fact that he wasn't pint sized also threw her off. He was approximately Bernard's height.

The man bowed his head briefly, and pursed his lips in a pretence of embarrassment. "_Where_ are my manners? Jack _Frost_, at your disposal." With a smirk, he reached out his right hand, and she tentatively shook it. His smirk changed slightly, looking a little more predatory. "I _won't_ freeze you. I can turn it _off_, don't worry..."

Helen was glad to take her hand back once he let go. She didn't take to this person at all. Still, she put on a friendly smile and introduced herself properly, not wanting to be rude herself.

"I'm Helen. Did you say your name is Jack Frost?" Helen did a slight double take, as his name finally sank in. "Oh...! You mean, _the_ Jack Frost? I hadn't realized you..."

He cut in, finishing her sentence. "Were a real person? Well, if I had any doubt you were human, now I _know_." He squinted at her thoughtfully, as if she were a fascinating puzzle. "How ever did you get to the North _Pole_, my dear? _Please_ tell me you aren't married to _Santa_..." He made a face, as if the thought were repulsive.

Helen realized he was flirting with her just a little, and smiled awkwardly. "No...but I _am_ married. I've just, um...tied the knot with the elf Bernard."

Jack Frost's smile changed abruptly, becoming more forced, and Helen got the impression that Bernard wasn't his favorite person. "_Head_ Elf, you mean." He muttered it, but Helen still heard clearly enough.

Helen cleared her throat. "So...I hadn't realized you were associated with Christmas! But I guess it makes sense." She smiled brightly. "Now that I think about it, you're in my all-time _favorite_ Christmas song..."

Jack cut her off, and Helen knew from his tone that she had said something _very_ wrong.

"You think I can be defined by some human _pop_ _tune_ written in the last fifty _years_? You think Jack _Frost_," he brought his hand up, fingertips turning white with ice crystals, "is confined to _Christmas_?" He stepped closer, _too_ close, and Helen leaned back, suddenly afraid as the air turned bitterly cold.

"I'm the freezing rain that makes your extremities go numb- I'm the _blizzard_ that stops air traffic dead. I'm the gust of bone chilling _cold_ that goes right through you on a wintry day." He paused, looking her up and down briefly.

"You're from the U.S.A., right? Well, remember that crazy storm in New York two months back? It was _huge_ in the news." He jerked his thumb toward his chest in a proud motion. "That was _me_. So, _don't_ try to lump me in with all these happy-slappy, warm, toasty _do_-gooders, _lady_."

Helen felt the energy drain from her limbs as shock took over. Frost was off handedly taking credit for the one of the worst winter storms to hit New York in the last _eighty years._ It had cropped up so unexpectedly that there hadn't been time to prepare. It was a big part of what had made it so devastating.

Helen's shock at his words slowly transformed into burning anger.

"People..." Helen found all the energy rush back into her body at once. Her hands were shaking with it, adrenaline coursing through her. "People _died_ in that storm..." Her voice broke, failing her on the last word. A lump in her throat prevented her from continuing.

Helen didn't have to speak, however. Her face, stretched taught in anguish and fury, conveyed everything. She wasn't a violent person, but as Jack Frost smirked at her, one eyebrow raised, as if proud of his accomplishment, still standing too close, _bullying_ her...

Helen closed the distance further in a sudden jolt of fury, at the cruel injustice of it all, and latched both hands onto his throat, _squeezing_ for all she was worth.

* * *

Author's Note: Ooooh, anger issues! What's gotten into Helen? Sorry for the pseudo-cliffhanger! :P


End file.
